


Lure of the Damned

by secretagentfan



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, Zombie Apocalypse, lots of cameos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24919426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretagentfan/pseuds/secretagentfan
Summary: The world isn't what it was.Ludger and Elle have been alone for a long time. Too long, probably.When tragic circumstances bring young doctor Jude Mathis into their lives, re-evaluating their places in the world might just be the least of their worries.Or, zombies, love, and the ties that bind.
Relationships: Elle Mel Marta & Ludger Will Kresnik, Jude Mathis & Elle Mel Marta, Jude Mathis/Ludger Will Kresnik
Comments: 78
Kudos: 47





	1. Prologue: Elle and Ludger

**Author's Note:**

> Here we GO. I'm finally enough chapters deep in this monster to start posting it. I love Xillia 2. I love Ludju and I love ELLE. 
> 
> I also love zombies. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy. :)

“We can stop here for now, Elle.”

The restaurant had clearly been looted months ago. Glass pieces from bottles and windows were scattered across the stain-covered floor, and half the tables were overturned.

Elle’s legs gave out, but she’d managed to run on her own this time. Ludger caught her overheated arm before she could hit the floor, leading her to a barstool before she accidentally cut herself on any of the shattered glass.

“Careful now,” he offered. She ignored him, throwing her sweaty face into her hands.

“I thought we’d never be done running!”

“Sorry,” Ludger said, collapsing onto a stool beside her. Exhaustion hit him all at once, down to his bones. “I know that was a long run.”

“A long run!?” Elle eyes were blazing. Ludger winced. Her dress was coated in dried mud, and her hair was stuck in an unsalvageable tangle of blood and sweat. “They were—that was—!”

He could still see the moment when the infected had grabbed her though the convenience store shelves. Grey, decaying fingers in cute golden pigtails. He blinked, trying to clear the image. If he had been a second slower…

“Awful,” he said, attaching a label to what the 8-year-old was still processing. “That was awful. I’m so sorry.”

Elle was silent. Ludger could tell she was fighting tears, but was too proud or dehydrated to let them go. He offered her a water bottle from his pack and watched as she drank, offering half back to Ludger. He did a mental quick inventory of their supplies before waving it off, pulling out another bottle for himself.

“Drink all you want, Elle. We’ll restock tomorrow,” he said.

She downed the rest of the water. Ludger forced himself to only drink a quarter of his before sneaking it back into their bag, just in case they needed it more later.

He tried the faucet behind the counter- it squeaked as he turned the knob. Nothing. The bar clearly hadn’t had working water for some time. That explained why no survivors had taken up residence here in spite of the relatively decent shape of the building.

Elle still wasn’t crying. Her face was twisted somewhere between irritation and exhaustion. Lately she’d been putting on this strong front Ludger had no idea how to crack. He had no idea how to do a lot of things, lately.

“Let me see your hair,” he said over the guilt swirling in his gut. “I’ll try to fix it.”

He reached out, but Elle shook her head, pushing his hands away.

“Cut it off,” she said.

“What?”

Her voice didn’t waver. “Just cut my hair off, Ludger, I don’t want it.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded. Ludger looked at her, silent and still. They had a good several hours before new infected would manage to claw through the barricades he had thrown together. Strategically, it would be a better plan to get some sleep while they could instead of trying to trim her hair. He opened his mouth to say this, and felt the words die in his throat. Elle was staring at nothing in particular, a hollow look on her dirty face.

“I used to be a hairdresser, you know,” Ludger found himself saying.

Her eyes flicked to his, eyebrows drawing together in a look dubious enough to be comical.

“Is it that hard to believe?” He laughed a bit, hand self-consciously going to the back of his neck.

“I thought you were a chef.”

Ludger grinned as he hopped onto the bar proper, positioning himself behind Elle. “I _am_ a chef, this was a little while back, before I went to culinary school. I worked at a barber shop.”

“Huh,” Elle said, unimpressed, but her body had relaxed some, so the story did its job.

She didn’t need to know that ‘a little while back’ was actually 10 years, and that he spent more time sweeping than cutting, because beauticians wouldn’t let his high school self within 5 feet of a pair of scissors.

Elle needed a hairdresser so now, Ludger figured, he was a hairdresser.

He undid her pigtails one by one, gently pulling her bloodied, matted hair into a single ponytail. Before picking up the scissors, he patted her back once.

“Were you any good, though? There are lots of bad hair people out there.”

Ludger hesitated a half-second too long. “I was the best, of course.”

“Liar.”

Urk. Caught, he raised his rusted scissors in the air. “Look, I’ll show you.”

He cut the base of the ponytail straight through. Elle’s long blonde hair fluttered to the floor, soft and gold and crusted with red, and that’s all the thinking Ludger got to do before she turned in her seat and looked at him like he just cut off a zombie’s arm in front of her all over again.

“What’s wrong!?”

“You didn’t warn me!”

Oh, _shoot_. “Sorry!”

“It’s gone!” Elle said, pupils wide, looking every bit the child she was. Her hands went to her cheeks where her hair now clung in a—oof—pretty uneven crop.

“Let me even the edges out—”

“No way, Ludger! I want to cut the rest myself! You can’t be trusted.”

“What!?”

“Give me the scissors, I’ll use this glass shelf as a mirror.”

Ludger, at a loss, handed Elle the scissors and watched, stress mounting, as she trimmed the rest of her hair in messy, generous, cuts. His hand covered his mouth, praying to gods he hadn’t even heard of that she wouldn’t lose an ear like this.

After what Ludger figured was _hours_ , probably, Elle turned to face him. She looked thoroughly, _thoroughly_ proud of herself.

“How do I look?” She asked.

Her hair was now even more of a choppy mess than it was before. The rest of her though… Ludger felt himself breathe for the first time in what felt like months.

“You look great, Elle,” he replied, honestly. “Just perfect.”

“I know,” Elle replied offhandedly, handing him back the scissors like a king offering a servant his used tissue. He accepted them, wondering, not for the first time, how his life had gotten to this point.

He was trying to scope out a place for them to get some sleep, when Elle spoke up.

“Hey Ludger?” She said, the barest hint of uncertainty working its way into her voice.

“Yes?”

“No more close calls, okay?”

Elle’s face had lost its humor; it carried the exhausting weight of weeks and weeks of travel, a burden Ludger had noticed in his own reflection more often than not lately, but there was something else there too—

A steely determination had settled in her round eyes, and with it a refusal to accept anything less from Ludger than the end of the apocalypse.

He met those eyes and promised: “No more close calls.”


	2. 50/50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter lengths are gonna vary. :)

There was a reason they avoided other survivors, but sometimes it couldn’t be avoided. Supplies and shelter were limited, and when it came to restocking what they had— there wasn’t much of a choice.

Ludger always preferred to look for large groups, preferably families. Families had to set an example for each other; they tended to be more understanding of Elle and more willing to share.

Most, anyway.

They had picked the wrong one this time. A family of three: mother, son, and grandfather, were living in what was once an old-fashioned bed-and-breakfast. It had been outfitted with a barbed wire fence that circled the length of the whole building. An ideal shelter.

The day Ludger and Elle had pushed past that fence, Ludger had been unable to shake the picture of a zoo they had stumbled upon weeks ago out of his head. Someone had opened the gates and let the animals free, but many of them had just rehomed to the cages of their tasty-looking neighbors. The resulting ecosystem was bizarre: jaguars living amongst ancient tortoises, apes napping beside elephants.

This family looked as out of place in this bed-and-breakfast as the lions did at that zoo: surrounded by the remains of pink flamingos.

“What the hell is on his arm?” The teenage son shouted, the moment Ludger and Elle stumbled through the door. Pain clouded Ludger’s vision as he attempted to stay upright on wobbling legs. “Is that a bite!?”

“No!” Elle shouted. She was trying to her best to support him, but he was too tall to be held properly.

He lowered himself to the floor and stayed where he was seated, holding his arm to try and stunt some of the bleeding. He clamped his mouth shut and forced his eyes to stay open; for a hysterical moment he feared he’d reverse the action – shut his eyes and groan like he wanted to - loud enough to get him shot instantly, regardless of bites. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he willed his mind to settle. To focus. For Elle.

“Ludger wasn’t bitten, so stop looking at him like that!”

The room was silent.

“Everyone, let’s calm down. He’s wounded,” said a new figure - a young man in a tan coat with fuzzy dark hair. It might have not been fuzzy. That might have just been Ludger’s eyes. “She’s saying he wasn’t bitten so–“

“Shut up. People lie all the time,” said the grandfather, red-faced. “People lying is what got us here, in this mess. Look at his arm— where else would he have gotten a cut like that?”

“It didn’t bite him!” Elle spoke up. “I promise! I saw — I was right there — he was protecting me! It didn’t bite him. It just scratched him, I promise! Scratches don’t change people!”

“Scratches don’t cause that much blood!”

The teenage son again. Something about his voice reminded Ludger of the sound of a spoon in a garbage disposal.

“That’s ‘cause he cut his arm climbing over the fence!”

The mother, voice low and gentle with false warmth spoke up. “Why don’t you let _him_ speak, Elle?”

Ludger didn’t know what to say. Everything seemed too bright; the family and stranger had blended together into a kaleidoscope of sharp, loud, shapes and movements. The back of his head throbbed. He tried to answer the question, but how could he? _Had_ he been bitten? What was going to happen to Elle?

Elle’s voice cut through the cacophony, clear. “He’s hurt - you guys should be helping him!”

“Look kid, step aside.”

“I’m not a kid!”

The grandfather took a step closer, and Elle pushed herself in front of Ludger, both arms outstretched. Ludger’s eyes focused enough to notice the dark gun under the man’s hand, and he half-stood on reflex, reaching for his own pistol. “Don’t point that at her.”

“He’s got a weapon! Hold him down!”

The kick came faster than Ludger anticipated, sharp, in the ribs. The teenager. Ludger shoved Elle away before she tried to bite him like she had learned to do in self-defense, and the grandfather’s gun pressed against his forehead.

“Ludger!”

 _Please._ Ludger thought, pulse pounding in his ears. Despair settled heavily around his heart. _Do it, fine, but_ _not in front of Elle. Not like this._

The sound of a punch split the air. The gun clattered to the floor and the small family of shaken survivors took a step back.

“You can’t just shoot people you think _might_ have been bitten!” The dark-haired man shouted. “We’re not animals! We can make this decision as people. Fairly.”

He turned to Ludger, gaze determined as it was exhausted. “Put your gun down too, please.”

Ludger obeyed, instantly, pistol falling out of his hand. Shame rolled in his gut as he raised both his hands and whispered the truth, just for this stranger: “No bullets.”

Understanding passed across his face for a moment. Blood slid down Ludger’s raised arm like a melting icicle, dripping onto the hardwood. Amber eyes followed the trail, then turned to address the rest of the group.

“I’m a doctor. Let me look at his wound first, and then we can form conclusions. Is that fair?”

The family didn’t reply. The doctor sighed, and turned back to Ludger, offering his hand.

“I’m Jude. Can both of you come with me, for a moment? I think some privacy would be useful here.”

“Take a gun with you, doctor!” The mother advised, and Ludger felt his teeth clench.

Jude simply scooped up the empty gun on the floor and stuck it in his coat pocket.

“There we are. Please stay calm, ma’am. I’ll be right back.” He addressed Ludger once more. “If you could lean on my shoulder—that’s it. Just like that.”

Ludger allowed the doctor to lead him and Elle to a storeroom in the back. The moment the door shut behind them Jude offered the gun back to him, muzzle pointed at the floor.

“Sorry. I figured giving in to her demands would be faster for all of us,” he glanced around the sparsely decorated room, frowning. “I wish we had more space, but this will be fine, I think. Could you sit down, please?”

Ludger’s legs were already taking him halfway to the floor, so it was easy to comply with the request. Jude kneeled in front of him, looking at his arm. Ludger’s vision was swimming again, sunspots dancing in front of his eyes every time he tried to focus. He opened and closed his fists, trying to force a calm, and felt a hand overlap his own.

“Breathe,” Jude said, and squeezed. His grip on Ludger’s hand was firm and grounding. Jude was wearing a pair of rough fingerless gloves – an odd choice, for a doctor– but one Ludger could focus on. He forced himself to hold his shaking breath and released it slowly, 4…3…2…1.

Jude exhaled with him, his breath warm on Ludger’s face. “There we go, one more now.”

Ludger complied, opening his eyes. He found his vision clear, and Jude close. Bright eyes and dark eyelashes. He looked…young. Too young for a doctor. The few doctors Ludger and Elle had encountered on their travels had felt ancient, with steady hands and cold, discerning eyes. Jude carried himself with a certainty that implied experience, but his face was still honest, readable. Kind.

“That’s good,” Jude said, releasing his hand after a few more exhales. “Keep taking those deep breaths. I’m going to get a look at your wounds, now.”

He removed his gloves, dropping them onto the floor after a moment of glancing around for a place to put them.

Elle gripped his coat.

“He wasn’t bitten,” she whispered. “Right?”

To Ludger’s surprise, Jude crouched down to meet her eyes. “I believe what you’ve said, but we still need to look at that cut. You said he cut his arm trying to help you over a fence, and then was attacked—scratched— is that right?”

Elle nodded. 

“Scratches can have all sorts of complications.”

“I know what infections are.”

Jude nodded. “Then you know why I need to look at his arm. Will you help me?”

“How?”

Ludger pressed further into the wall, trying to stay focused on Jude’s instructions to Elle, but his arm burned, impossible to ignore. A bite or a scratch?

He remembered barbed wire and small hands– the nerve-wracking precision required to help Elle through traps specifically meant to keep climbers away. Then, something catching his shirt–falling; the infected man’s face inches from his own and…what?

He rubbed his forehead, willing himself to think harder. Elle had screamed; he had emptied the last of their bullets into the man’s head quick and efficient like Julius taught him. But before then, when his vision was swimming from having hit the pavement, he had given the creature an opening. Could he have been bitten? Was there even time–

“Excuse me.”

Jude was in front of him. He was rinsing off his hands with the contents of a plastic water bottle. He had two more tucked under his armpit.

“Hi Ludger,” he said. Elle must have shared their names. “I’m going to use these to get some of the blood off your arm so I can see your wounds properly, is that alright?”

Was it alright? The formality was refreshing, though unexpected. Ludger nodded, removing his hand from where it was gripping his arm. What remained of his long sleeve was glued to his skin with red. He tried to unbutton what was left of his shirt, but his fingers were clumsy, slippery.

“May I help?” Jude said, after Ludger failed to undo the same button for the third time in a row. The back of Ludger’s head thudded against the wall as he finally gave up, shutting his eyes.

“Please, if you don’t mind.”

Jude nodded, wordlessly unbuttoning Ludger’s shirt and helping him carefully ease it over his arm. The cuts were most severe from his left bicep to the bend of his elbow, with deep punctures and winding scrapes.

“These are from barbed wire?”

“Had to climb quickly,” Ludger explained.

Jude nodded, placed a hand under his arm, and gently tilted it towards himself. The motion _burned_. Ludger winced at the same time as Jude exhaled.

“Sorry Ludger. I know that hurt, but I need to be able to clean them.”

“No—it’s. Fine. Go ahead and do what you need to, doctor.”

“This seems like an odd question to ask after that but are you feeling any sort of numbness?” Jude asked.

“No numbness,” Ludger managed, through his teeth. “Just the opposite: it burns.”

He hoped that was good. Jude didn’t give any indication as he looked, focused, into Ludger’s eyes. “This is going to sting. Are you ready?”

Was he? Ludger nodded, for lack of an answer, and Jude tilted the bottle onto his arm.

The reaction was instantaneous, like throwing ice water onto a hot iron— pain left sparks in Ludger’s vision, and he heard himself hiss from somewhere far away.

His body reacted on its own, his elbow connecting sharply with some part of Jude— a cheek? Shoulder? Who could tell? It didn’t make a difference; Jude’s grip on Ludger’s arm was merciless, firmly shoving his arm down and keeping it in place spite of his reflexes.

“Almost there. I need you to bear with me a little longer— some of these are deep,” Jude said.

Ludger was not, in nature, a violent man. He favored athleticism for health and personal growth as opposed to any sort of combat. Right now, though, with his ears ringing, blood and water splashing onto the floor— right _now_ , Ludger wanted to _kill_ something.

Jude’s moderate voice only deterred him slightly. “A little more now, you’re doing great.”

Ludger grit his teeth. Nodded. He didn’t feel great.

“Ludger?” Elle’s voice. Ludger forced his eyes to hers as Jude— god, why— emptied a second bottle lower down his arm. She was on his right, short hair clinging to her cheeks, holding, oh, holding his hand. Did Jude tell her to do that? He loosened his grip on her fingers, not wanting to squeeze too hard. He probably already had.

He heard Jude inhale again next to him, felt the fingers on his arm loosen. “Okay Ludger, I’m done cleaning for now.”

Ludger didn’t even try to hide his relief. He had half-expected Jude to pull a third bottle from his damn coat.

“I’m going to take a closer look at them, but this should hurt less,” Jude assured. “You just might feel some pinching. Sorry for grabbing you like that.”

“You have…quite a grip,” Ludger declared, stupidly. Remembered, flushed: “…Sorry for elbowing you.”

Jude just smiled. “I’ve had worse. Believe me— you were considerate.”

He was leaning in, dabbing gently around the largest wound with a clean cloth, when his warm smile slowly melted into something decidedly more neutral. That wasn’t promising.

He wrapped the cloth around Ludger’s arm, securing it tightly with some tape. He measured it carefully, clearly rationing where he could.

“This will hold for now and help with the bleeding, but– Elle,” Jude said. “My bag’s in the other room. It has some more gauze and things to secure this better, but I think they’ll try to ask me more questions if I head out there with my hands bloody. Could you get it for me?”

“Okay, I’ll go,” Elle said. Her cheeks were a little pale, and Ludger mentally apologized for making her watch all of this. She hesitated for a moment at the door, glancing at Ludger, who gave her a little nod. She ran out, backpack bouncing.

“Ludger,” Jude began. “I need you to be very honest with me–“

Ludger knew where this was going. “I can’t remember,” he said. “I can’t remember if I was bitten or not. I hit my head, and it was on top of me. I’d really love to be able to tell you something but…honestly I have no idea.”

Honesty was a strange thing, after all the running and hiding and usual white lies about Elle– but what else did Ludger have to offer?

“Thank you for not hiding that. I’ll be honest with you as well,” Jude said, eyebrows drawn together.

Ludger braced himself for the bad news, or rather– thought he had.

“I can’t tell either,” Jude said. Ludger stared at him, and he clarified. “I don’t see any bites but your wounds are—the barbed wire really did a number on your arm. I can see a series of scrapes under the puncture wounds, where it’s likely you were scratched, but the other wounds are interfering with my ability to make out the shape of any teeth marks, which is really the only way to tell without a blood test.”

Panic spread through Ludger’s body, numbing, electric. His voice was hoarse: “Where can I get a blood test?”

Jude looked pained. “I think you would be hard-pressed to find the equipment for that. And…the blood test would require time…”

“Meaning it would be too late by the time the results come back.”

Jude nodded. Desperation clawed from Ludger’s chest to his throat. He raked his good hand through his hair. He had to hear this. He had to gather all the information he could and make a decision based on that.

“I can’t know for sure until I start displaying symptoms then.”

Jude nodded, and said something else. It was gentle and sympathetic, but Ludger couldn’t hear him. It was like a hole had opened up in the corner of the room, sucking out all the air. Blood rushed in his head.

A 50/50 chance.

It was almost funny; Ludger had yet to come across a bet he hadn’t lost. He laughed, a startled, wet sound, foreign to his ears. It cut through the white noise, and he found he could speak again.

“Thank you for this information, doctor.”

Jude’s hand covered his. Ludger looked at it. There was blood under his fingernails.

“Do you both usually travel alone? Is there someone I can contact for you?”

He thought of Julius, eyes warm but purposeful, the muzzle of Ludger’s gun pressed against his temple. Ludger was gasping, pleading; Julius was…humming. Of course he was humming. His brother. He could still hear the sound of the body hitting the floor, feel the cold of the trigger under his finger. How the sudden, awful, silence of their apartment felt _physical_ , wrapping around his throat, tight as a noose, plugging his ears with complete, solidified _nothing_.

It had felt like the end of Ludger’s life. It would have been, if not for Elle.

“No one to contact,” Ludger said. His cheeks were wet. When did that happen? He pulled his hand from Jude’s to wipe the tear tracks off his face. If Elle saw them, it would be a problem. “It’s just us.”

“We have that in common then,” Jude said, and the weight that sentence carried reached out to the hole in his own heart. Ludger turned his hand in Jude’s grip. Squeezed.

He felt Jude’s startled eyes on him, and quickly released his hand.

“How long do I have?” He asked. “Before I know.”

“With a small bite, which yours would have to be…I think you will know for certain in a week.”

“That long?”

“I’m sorry. It’s a delayed reaction. You won’t feel anything for the first few days. Some have reported respiratory issues, skin discoloration but that only happens moments before transformation.”

Moments before.

Ludger was so sure it had happened overnight, but Julius had been hiding the bite mark for a full week—

No. He couldn’t think about this right now. No time.

Ludger tried to stand, but felt Jude’s hand on his shoulder, keeping him down.

“What about my daughter—” he stopped himself. He never called her that anymore just as she never called him ‘Daddy’. Elle told him on her 6th birthday she wanted to call him ‘Ludger’, because they were partners. Equals. At the time, it had hurt. It still hurt, a little, if he was being honest, but it made Elle look so _proud_. “What will happen to Elle, if I don’t make it?”

Jude’s grip was firm, steadying. “I’ll see that she’s safe— if this really is what it could be. You have my word.”

Ludger swallowed and looked carefully at Jude: a stranger in every sense of the word, but a stranger who had tried to save his life. Possibly Elle’s as well.

He couldn’t do this to him.

“You don’t understand what you’re agreeing to.”

“What?”

“Those things— the infected. I don’t know why but, they can sense her. They come in droves, and quickly. I had…never seen anything like it before, but they want her, specifically, aggressively, more than anyone else. I’ve seen them take down fences and barricades in an afternoon.”

“What about now? Is she safe now?”

Guilt pulled at Ludger’s chest. “The fence outside is strong, that’s why we picked this place, but they’re probably starting to gather. Once she’s out of this house, they’ll follow her and leave everyone else alone. We try to travel on our own to keep others away, but we needed the supplies. I wasn’t expecting to get injured and stay this long.”

Was he dooming Elle too, in sharing this? No, he had to make sure, had to know that Jude knew the risks. Tricking him into watching over her could only lead to Elle getting abandoned. He needed Jude to agree, whole-heartedly, but who would do that? Ludger grit his teeth, bowed his head.

“If I turn, and you take her in, you have to keep moving. That’s the only way to keep them at bay. Please, Jude.”

He was begging. Ludger had long since given up on his own dignity when it came to Elle's safety. This was survival. Desperate and pathetic, but life; Elle’s life. “I _know_ this is too much to ask but I’ll–”

“Okay,” Jude said. “We’ll keep moving. You don’t have to convince me.”

Ludger blinked. Once, twice. “You’d…?”

“I’m not going to leave a little girl to fend for herself defenseless.”

Ludger stared. He had no idea what the expression on his face was, but judging by Jude’s reaction, he must have looked suspicious.

“I won’t abandon her, Ludger. But I want to remind you that this plan is only if it comes to that. We don’t know your results yet. I’m not giving up on you.”

Against Ludger’s own better judgement, he felt the hope in his chest impossibly find purchase and take root.

“I…can’t believe someone would—”

Jude’s voice was as kind as it was firm. “You did, didn’t you?”

Ludger didn’t get the chance to respond. A sharp series of firework-like sounds pulled his attention. They were coming from the other room. Gunshots.

“Elle!?”

He was on his feet so quickly he nearly blacked out, but adrenaline was taking over. Ludger threw open the door, ignoring Jude shouting after him.

Elle was several yards away from the front door, which was open. A large black bag was slung around her—Jude’s.

The grandfather was in front of her, emptying his gun on a downed infected creature.

Lying a few feet in front of him was the teenage son. The inside of his throat was partially exposed from a violent bite, and horrible choking sounds were coming out of his mouth. The mother was holding his convulsing body in her lap, blank-faced.

The creature had gone still, but the grandfather continued firing.

Elle was watching this. Wide eyes. Ludger pulled her close.

“Elle look at me.”

She did. Ludger struggled to look as put together as possible. He should have never trusted that damn fence. “This was not your fault, okay? Say it with me.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Elle repeated obediently, her whisper was barely audible over the relentless shots of the gun. Ludger squeezed her tightly. She didn’t argue when he picked her up. She was getting bigger, and his still-fresh injuries screamed at the contact, but he ignored them. 

“Sir, please stop! It’s dead!" Jude’s voice. “Don’t waste your—"

The grandfather’s gun changed direction, pressed against Jude’s forehead. He stumbled backward, hands in the air.

“Get out,” the grandfather said. “All of you. Get out of my house.”

“Okay,” Jude agreed, backing out the front door. Wordlessly, Ludger joined him.


	3. The Fence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

The sun was starting to set, it was warm and clear outside, which made the sight in front of them look a hell of a lot worse. A portion of the fence had fallen. Infected writhed on top of it in a rubber band ball of decaying limbs and barbed wire. There were about twenty-five in all. Too many to fight off alone, especially without a gun.

The infected weren’t focused on them at least. If they were quiet, maybe they wouldn’t pick up on Elle immediately.

“If we go, they’ll follow, right?” Jude whispered. He was inching toward the rear end of the fence, where it wrapped around the back of the building. It was still intact and clear for the time being; all interested parties seem to have gathered at the breach in the gate.

“Yeah, they’ll follow.” Ludger replied, equally hushed. He snuck Elle down beside him—she would likely be able to run faster than he could carry her with his arm what it was.

“Elle,” Jude said, reaching out as soon as she was on the ground. Ludger almost pulled her away reflexively, before realizing that Jude was simply removing his bag from her arms. “Thank you for getting that for me.”

Ludger gave himself a mental kick for his paranoia, as Elle shrugged. Her eyes kept flicking between the tall fence and zombie pile. They were slowing each other down, uncoordinated limbs elbowing against each other in attempts to climb all at once. Ludger wondered if they’d look like that shortly, clambering up and through the barbed wire.

The barbed wire. Man, Ludger was really, really not looking forward to facing _that_ again—without a shirt, this time.

He was determining the quickest way to get Elle and their backpacks over the fence when Jude found what he was digging for and pulled out a pair of wire cutters from his bag. Ludger blinked.

“Way to go, Jude!” Elle said, a hair too loudly, and Jude grinned through his wince, putting a finger to his lips. Elle clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes flicking to the zombie pile again. Ludger stood in front of her before she could see all twenty-six zombified heads turn to face them all at once.

“It’s okay Elle. Help Jude with the fence,” he whispered, trying not to alarm her, even though every alarm possible was going off in his head. “Can you hold it in place while he cuts?”

Elle nodded. Her cheeks were flushed with shame. Ludger’s heart ached; the truth was, it wouldn’t have mattered even if she _had_ whispered. Infected always managed to hear her.

“Not your fault,” he said.

Elle bit her lip, repeating: “Not my fault.”

“There’s a gun in my bag, Ludger,” Jude offered, voice a smidge too high to be considered calm. He had started cutting through the fence as fast as he could, but the metal was stubborn, and the handheld wire cutter could only snip one link at a time. It would take a while.

Ludger would have to buy them time, then. He reached into the bag.

Jude’s gun was not what he expected. Small, thick and bright gold, the double-barrel pistol screamed “LOOK AT ME” in a way that hardly suited the mild-mannered doctor. Ludger flicked his wrist to flip the barrel and expose the chamber, and the light caught the gun’s reflective surface.

Ludger was not impressed. He was nervous. Two bullets. Two shots. They had a hell of a lot more than two infected heading their way.

“C’mon…” Jude mumbled, clearly getting frustrated. The wire cutter had seen better days and was struggling to keep up. The hole in the fence could fit Elle, at least, which brought some comfort, if the worst were to happen.

Ludger kept his back to them both, gun trained on the slowly untangling zombie pile behind them.

The air stank. He felt lightheaded, but that could have just been the blood loss. He willed the adrenaline coursing through his veins to keep him upright a little longer. He was keenly aware of the heaviness of his own breathing. A little longer, he begged. Just a little longer.

The clip of the wire cutters felt deafening next to the softer, more menacing sound of swollen, diseased feet on concrete. Clip. Drag. Clip. The infected were all mostly upright now, but not close enough to shoot. Not close enough to warrant a bullet.

“Ludger look! The other side of the fence!” Elle grabbed his leg, and Ludger turned.

“Shit.”

An infected couple from the other side of the block were running toward them with alarming speed. Their transformations must have been recent - their bodies not having had time to deteriorate. Fast and strong - they would be trouble.

Looks like Ludger knew where his shots were going. He aimed the expensive-looking weapon at their legs.

_Shoot to incapacitate_. Julius instructed in his head. _Cripple if you can’t kill._

Ludger exhaled. His vision was still unfocused, but he couldn’t hesitate. Two shots.

He pulled the trigger. The first bullet exploded into the woman’s thigh, sending her reeling onto the concrete. Kickback was merciless, the tiny pistol managing to send a small shockwave of pain up through his chest, into his bad arm.

“You did it!” Elle cheered, as Ludger blinked his vision into clarity. He exhaled a ragged breath, swallowing the pain to prep and aim his next shot.

“Jude, the fence—” Ludger managed to say, through his teeth. Dots were starting to form behind his eyes, his left arm throbbed. He couldn’t keep this up.

“I’m done, Elle you go first!” Jude said, pulling back the cut in the fence to allow Elle to squeeze through.

Ludger’s hand was shaking, but there was nothing to be done about that. It didn’t matter ultimately, as the infected man was closer than he’d like, only a few meters away. Dead fingers reached for Elle as she dashed through the hole in the fence. One quick shot in the waist and he was down. Elle didn’t look back.

“Ludger, behind you!”

Ludger turned and came face-to-face with an infected woman. A large portion of her face was missing, what remained of her left eye was little more than scraped, gooey mark. Out of habit, he pressed his gun to her skull and pulled the trigger. It clicked uselessly in his hands. _Shit_.

“Ludger!”

Something flew past Ludger’s ear, narrowly avoiding hitting him. A rock. It hit the woman in the head, hard. Hands were at his back, pulling him down and through the hole in the fence, and then upright again. Jude.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His eyes went straight to the bandages on Ludger’s arm where fresh blood was starting to show through.

“I’m fine, thanks to you.”

Two rescues in one day. Ludger could feel his debt beginning to rise. Jude only shook his head.

“It’s nothing."

“Come _on_!” Elle shouted, grabbing both their arms and pulling them forward. “Cut the chatter you two, we have to _move_!”

“Cut the chatter…?” Jude asked, incredulous, but Ludger just shook his head.

“You heard her.”

The three of them fell into a run.


	4. Safe Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to posting this chapter! Some fun new faces.

The cracked pavement outside of the bed and breakfast had seamlessly given way to dirt roads and fields in a way only rural land could manage.

With Ludger as he was, the walk took twice as long as they had planned. He had alternated between leaning on Jude and stumbling alongside Elle. _Sharing the load,_ Elle had called it. Ludger wasn’t totally sure how he felt about being _the load_ , but hey. She was happy. He was dizzy. Jude seemed like a nice guy.

They were all out of breath by the time they reached the orchard outpost.

This world of good smells and greenery still felt foreign to Ludger, even after all their traveling. Having grown up in the city he knew asphalt and exhaust, firmly understood how it felt to ride a bike and scrape his knee on cracked sidewalks littered with cigarette butts.

He felt most comfortable in the city settlements, where trees were just now beginning to fight their way through the concrete. City settlements had buildings. They were looted and dusty, sure, but _buildings_ , nonetheless. You could spend a few hours tidying up and then easily pretend that life could return to normal any day, inside a building.

There was no pretending in the country. Farmland measured the effects of time by how much vengeance mother nature decided to have—and often, she was _pissed_. She had taken back this place. The long stretch of land was filled with tall grass, weeds, and the whispy beginnings of fully rooted trees. Ludger could hear the slosh of a river, somewhere behind all the overgrowth.

The only thing she couldn’t lay her claim on was the tall hydroelectrically powered fence that encircled the settlement. Farmland shelters like this one had become a sort of cultural hub for survivors - if you could afford to get in. The fancy fence was as much a declaration of dominance as it was of protection.

Dread pooled in Ludger’s stomach, as he remembered his last stay at a shelter like this one. Elle was scowling at the electrified metal; Jude just sighed. They all knew they didn’t have a choice. They were sweaty, and exhausted – this would be their home for the night, whatever the cost.

“I’ve had enough of fences,” Elle mumbled as they elbowed their way into the rambunctious line of survivors trying to get in. It was late, likely around 11 or 12 at night, but there was never any shortage of desperate people looking for a safe place to stay. “They’re stupid and they don’t work. Zombies just build up and then people get hurt!”

“I don’t think that will be problem here, at least,” Jude supplied. “There are guards.”

“I guess,” she huffed, pointing a _look_ in Jude’s general direction. “I don’t really like guards either though.”

Jude exhaled an almost-laugh. “I know what you mean.”

The guards at any outpost were often sketchy vigilantes that took it upon themselves to keep the crowded shelter safe at night. They stood at the gates with guns, checked those that came in, and eliminated any infected that approached during the night.

That part was fine. The problem was how they took payment.

Guards were paid in the form of non-optional tolls: entry fees from those desperate enough to need a place to stay for the night. The whole situation was ripe for misuse, and it often was; Ludger knew firsthand.

This particular outpost looked to be a bit of an odd case – independently managed, with less guards than usual. A group of four was stationed at the gate for payment collection and health examinations. What they lacked in number they made up with in intimidating artillery.

A woman in glasses with two pistols strapped to her hip and a large hunting rifle on her back was narrowing the family units into thinner lines, sometimes by force. Next to her, an intimidating man in all black was taking what had been collected as toll from the other two figures, a mountain of a man and—

“These are the guards?” Elle blurted. “One of them is a little girl!”

“I think she’s just short, Elle,” Ludger whispered over the slightly unhinged stare of the fourth guard, the ‘little girl’ Elle pointed out. She had grey hair and a cute red dress—both fine, but what really stood out was the enormous, threatening machine gun strapped to her back. It was nearly as big as she was.

Jude winced at Ludger’s reply, and Ludger blinked, before realizing that his response was not the whisper he intended it to be, but more of a shout. His ears had been ringing for the last mile. The girl had definitely heard both of them— heat rose to his face, almost as quickly as her machine gun.

“Sorry!” He said (or rather, shouted) to the young girl.

“I’d shoot you right now if you didn’t look so damn pathetic, loser!” was her gentle reply. She spat on the ground, as if spitting somehow made her older and more mature. It did not. Ludger swallowed.

That said, she was right. He definitely did feel pathetic, barely standing, only staying upright through Elle and Jude’s help and sheer stubbornness.

“Agria,” said the mountain. Ludger glanced up at his eyes, confident he was at least four Elles in size. “Refrain from pointing your gun at civilians.”

“These guys don’t count as civilians. They count as bugs.”

“Listen to Jiao.”

A quiet, irritated voice came from the man dressed in all black. He had abruptly appeared behind the girl, Agria, but she didn’t seem phased in the slightest. She was waving her machine gun around concerningly.

“Buzz off, Wingul. I’m not gonna actually shoot ‘em. I don’t shoot losers,” Agria stated, half to Wingul, half to the survivors that had started to retreat in terror.

“You shoot zombies,” Wingul replied, voice dry.

Agria paused, blinked a couple times, and then grinned in a way Ludger could only describe as _demonic_. “I guess I shoot some losers.”

“Get a move on you three, you’re holding up the line, and Agria _put your gun away_.”

The woman in glasses spoke up, which was impressive, because she was standing a good distance away from them and had her pistol on the back of a young man’s neck.

_Jeez, what the hell did he do?_ Ludger wondered, before noticing the bandages on the man’s shoulder. The realization was ice in his stomach. The infected man’s companion, a teenage girl, probably around fourteen or fifteen was pleading with the woman. Ludger’s mouth felt dry.

“Please! You have to let him through! We don’t have anywhere else to stay for the night! He still has time, I promise—five days, at least!”

The woman’s response was cold. “You can’t prove that. Get out, before I have to take care of him myself.”

“Please! Just for one night!” the girl begged. She had fallen to her knees. 

Ludger swallowed. He felt Jude’s eyes on him.

Wingul interrupted any potential conversation, drawing the attention of the other observers in the line.

“Infected, even early-stage, are not permitted behind the fence. If you are bitten, leave now. No exceptions.” 

“Ludger, are you okay?” Jude asked, in his ear. His head felt foggy, knees weakening.

“I don’t think I can stand much longer.”

Jude’s arm wrapped around his waist, holding him up. It was embarrassing, but necessary.

Wingul spoke again, issuing orders to the guards this time.

“Jiao, take care of things here. Agria, with me - there are plenty of others in the line for you to irritate.”

Jiao nodded grimly, stepping in front of them. His huge form blocked the scene from view completely.

“You don’t get to order me around! I still have to check out this guy—”

Ludger knew, even without looking, that Agria was pointing at him. Elle’s eyebrows drew together watching her.

“I bet he’s hiding a big old bite mark under those bandages. You should be thanking me for being observant— don’t look at me like that, you boring old man,” Agria hissed. “I’m telling you, he’s a zombie in the making!”

_You might not be wrong,_ Ludger thought, half-hysterically, but held his tongue.

Elle, on the other hand, had plenty of input to provide.

“Stop bullying Ludger! He’s had a bad day and you shouldn’t bully people after they’ve had a bad day!”

“Elle!” Ludger warned, alarmed.

“No! You can’t stand on your own— that’s bad!” Elle shouted. She was reaching her breaking point, sweaty and exhausted. She was too old for temper tantrums and seldom had them anymore, but today seemed to be the exception for a lot of things. “You can’t just let people push you around because you’re scared of them, Ludger! They need to be nice to you because we’re guests, and you’re hurt!”

Agria’s mouth was open, eyes wide. Wingul seemed greatly amused.

“The young lady makes a point,” Jiao approved.

“What do _you_ know, you big bully?” replied Elle, chin pointed up. She looked very small, whole body dwarfed by this man’s shadow. Ludger felt his soul leave his body.

Thankfully Jiao just laughed. “It’s not every day we see someone stand up to Agria, or to me. You’re a strong little girl, but be careful. Not everyone is kind here.”

“Elle, please,” Jude spoke up this time. Ludger was relieved to find him calm, when he was about to start frantically apologizing. “Let’s all calm down. We don’t want any trouble.”

“By the looks of it, you three couldn’t even handle trouble if it found you,” Wingul commented.

Jiao stepped forward. “I’ll be collecting your toll, so if you could all head this way…”

“Hey, what are they gonna do to that guy? He’s not hurting anybody right now,” Elle was walking alongside Jiao, evidently having deemed him not enough of a threat. Ludger was leaning against Jude’s shoulder, but he kept a hand on his gun. It was empty, but threatening enough, probably. He hoped.

Jiao definitely noticed, eyes flicking to Ludger. He looked as if he were appraising a particularly unfortunate animal.

“I’d like to know as well,” Jude said, and Ludger was surprised by the quiet edge of anger in his voice.

“Right now,” Jiao clarified softly - to Elle - entirely avoiding Jude. “That man is not hurting anyone, but he will, in a short amount of time. We cannot trust him in the walls. We are the protectors of this shelter, and we can’t allow anyone, no matter who they are, to violate that safety.”

Ludger felt Jude’s exhale. He was holding something back, but now was far from the time to discuss it. Jiao led them a few feet to the side. The line behind them had bulked up considerably. Ludger tried not to notice. He was so tired. His eyes slipped shut.

Jude shook his shoulder. “Ludger.”

Shit. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Stay awake a little longer.”

Elle was still chatting. “Well, what if it’s one of you or your friends?”

“Even if it was one of us. No exceptions.”

“Oh.”

Her voice was quiet. Jiao seemed unfazed.

Ludger was mercifully saved from having to weigh in by Jiao calmly asking them to take out their bags. He didn’t miss, however, the sound of a revolver being fired a short way behind them. Jiao didn’t look back.

“A warning shot,” he said, clarifying to the group. “They will not kill him, if he leaves.”

“But whatever is out there, will,” Jude replied.

“He is already dead. Letting the undead into a safe zone puts everyone behind these walls at risk. Or would you rather be awoken by a horde of infected in the middle of the night?”

Jude opened his mouth, then closed it. Disagreement was written all over his face, but he knew as well as Ludger did, that they needed the shelter. His gaze tilted downward, gloved fists clenched.

Jiao spoke up. “It is time to collect your toll. Hand your bags to me, please.”

Ludger bit the inside of his cheek and did as he was asked. Elle followed suit.

The first time he had stayed at a camp like this, he was with Julius. Elle was still a baby, warm in his arms. The guards had taken all their food and water and pressed a knife to Julius’s throat when he argued against them. Lara had intended for Elle to have her necklace when she got older. They took that too.

Julius’s gun was the greatest loss. At the time, it had been the only thing keeping them safe, and it had been taken from them, ruthlessly, without hesitation.

Ludger didn’t have any sentimental items left. Jude seemed to be the same, handing over his doctor’s bag to the guard easily. That was the cost of safety.

Elle’s backpack with the silly face looked ridiculous in the massive man’s hands, he sifted through it with three fingers before pulling out a small comb and handing it back to her.

Ludger had looted the comb from a dollar store, back when Elle had her long hair. It was plain, cheap, and easily replaceable.

His eyes narrowed, not trusting what he was seeing. That was it, from her?

“Your bag next,” Jiao said, looking through Ludger’s bag in the same impassive way he had checked Elle’s. He pulled out a can of beans and put it in his sack next to the comb.

“You like beans?” Elle asked.

“Yes,” Jiao replied.

“Me too,” mumbled Elle. She kept her hands on her hips. Ludger could have sworn he saw Jiao smile.

Jude was next. Jiao’s eyes immediately went to the fancy gold gun. Ludger could feel Jude tense.

“This is an expensive weapon. How did you get it?” Jiao asked. His voice had grown cold, Ludger wondered if he thought Jude had stolen it. The idea was preposterous.

“It belonged to my friend.”

“Sentimental value then?” Jiao asked. Jude nodded.

“A lot,” his voice had gone quiet, the smallest hint of desperation sneaking in. “A lot of sentimental value.”

Ludger winced, so Jude did have something he didn’t want to lose. Dangerous.

The large man pulled out a syringe—it was a nice quality one. Judging by the clear conflict on Jude’s face, it was difficult to get ahold of, but less important to him than the gun.

“This will do.”

“What are you looking to use that for?” Jude asked. “It’s a good piece of equipment—"

“That’s not your job to figure out,” the hardness had returned to Jiao’s voice. His tolls had been a joke, considering, but he was clearly not one to be argued with.

Jude held his tongue. The man handed him back his bag which he slung over his shoulder.

“Payment accepted. Now both of you, jackets off.”

“We have to undress too?” Elle whispered.

“By the looks of this one—” Jiao pointed a massive finger at Ludger. “—you three have seen some things. We can’t afford any risks.”

Asking someone to remove their outer layers was a surprisingly difficult task. It was the peak of summer, yet Jude was wearing a full coat with a couple of button downs, and Elle had on a baggy cardigan over one of Ludger’s shirts, a dress, and leggings. Layers were as close to armor as they could manage when it came to dealing with the infected.

Ludger pulled away from Jude to allow him to undress. He leaned against a nearby tree for support, shutting his eyes. For the first time today, he was glad to be without a shirt, if only to avoid having to take it off.

By the time he opened them, Jude and Elle’s clothes had formed a small, but impressive pile.

Jude looked somehow younger, and older at the same time, dressed down to a plain black undershirt. Without the tan coat, he no longer remotely resembled a doctor. In fact, his toned, gently muscular arms left a separate impression entirely.

Ludger swallowed, politely looking away, as Jude rested his hand on the base of his undershirt.

“This as well?”

“You can keep the undershirt on,” Jiao said.

Jude nodded, as Jiao looked them both over, checking for injury.

“You’re both clean.”

“Told you,” Elle said. “What about Ludger?”

“I’m going to have to look at his arm, first.”

Jude spoke up, “I have to advise against that. It recently reopened, and exposing it now could lead to worse blood loss—"

“No look, no entry. Those are the rules.”

“It’s fine,” Ludger said, too tired to argue. His fingers were already reaching for the bandage.

“Let me,” Jude interjected. “You are a patient under my care and I don’t want to risk infection.”

A patient? Ludger let his hands fall to his side. “Go ahead.”

Jude stepped forward, carefully unraveling the now-red cloth he had placed on his arm hours earlier. Fresh blood was still coming out of the wounds.

It hurt like hell still, but at this point, Ludger hardly felt it. Between the heat and the running, and the stress of the whole day, constant pain was just sort of a fact of life at this point.

Jiao monitored Jude’s actions closely, looking over the wound carefully while Jude held his arm in place.

“What is this from?”

“Barbed wire,” Ludger mumbled, eyes half-lidded. God he just wanted to _lay down._ “Climbed a fence.”

After a few painful minutes, possibly seconds, Ludger couldn’t be too sure. Jiao nodded.

“Cover it up again, you can go through. I am handing you a number. You are to go to the spot with that number. Cause trouble, and you’ll be shot. No questions asked.”

“Mm,” Ludger said, intelligently.

Jude’s eyebrows raised, and it looked like he was considering saying something, but he didn’t. He rewrapped Ludger’s arm again, and they were pushed through the gate at last.

It was crowded, but beautiful. If Ludger didn’t know any better, he would say it looked like a large amount of people having picnics. There was a farm house at the center of the compound, where Ludger figured the guards stayed. Their number led them to a small plot of land by an apple tree.

That was really all he had time to notice before his legs finally gave out and he tipped face first into the grass.

“Ludger!”

Elle spoke up, unfazed. “It’s okay, he does that.”

“Collapses?”

“Yeah. Like this.”

There was a quiet thump beside him, Elle laying down as well, probably.

Jude’s voice was dubious. “Just be careful with your shoulder, Ludger,” he advised.

“Mmhm,” Ludger replied. He half-opened his eyes to catch a glimpse of Jude laying a couple feet away. He was sleeping with his medical bag like someone would a teddy bear. Ludger was confused for a moment, before remembering to drag his own backpack under his head.

Safe from thieves, for now.

“Night Jude, night Ludger,” Elle said. She had curled a little closer to Ludger in a way he knew she’d deny in the morning.

“Goodnight Elle,” they both replied.

They were asleep in minutes.


	5. A Nice Day

Julius was trying to tell him something. Or maybe it was Lara. Urgent, but ungraspable. Something was breathing hard near him, the sound covered by the death rattle of a new infected. Crawling on all fours; it was close now, and only getting closer. No, it wasn’t getting closer: it was here, already here, inside him. The sound was coming from his own throat. Elle—

A gasp. Ludger sat up fast enough to crack a rib. Grabbing his empty gun on reflex, Ludger pointed it in the direction of the undead attacking them.

“Sorry!”

Jude’s hands were in the air immediately, a panicked look in his eyes, chest heaving. It looked as though he had just woken up, and unpleasantly at that. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat.

The gun fell from Ludger’s hands.

“No, I’m sorry Jude— reflex. Are you okay?”

Even as he apologized, he yielded to another reflex and turned to check on Elle. No one was attacking; Ludger had been the one to pull out a gun and yet—he just had to check. Had to. She was still sleeping soundly. Safe.

“Sorry,” Ludger repeated, exhaling out a long breath. “For pointing that at you.”

He ran a hand over his face, glancing at Jude, who was, to his surprise, doing the exact same thing.

“I’m okay Ludger,” Jude said. His pupils were dilated; his voice an exhausted whisper. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Nightmare?” Ludger asked.

Jude nodded.

“Me too,” he admitted. Jude offered him a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Waking each other up with our own nightmares, what a dark coincidence,” Jude said. “It feels almost cosmic, you know?”

He was trying a little too hard to seem conversational. Ludger smiled slightly and shrugged, not wanting to pressure him to talk.

Jude seemed grateful for the silence; the forced smile fell from his face. He looked away, starting to fix his hair.

It was light out, just after sunrise, when the sun was still gentle in how it lit the sky.

Family units clustered together, sleeping. there was something animalistic about the closeness, rather than intimate— endless bodies nestled around prized belongings like dragons guarding their keep.

It was crowded, but the crowd meant this many people were still alive; something to be thankful for. The early risers were starting to mill about, in spite of the glares of the light sleepers. Ludger was glad Elle was still out cold, as he had no doubt that she would be glaring with them.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this sore. Ludger knew he had taken a beating yesterday, but he wasn’t quite expecting the wide variety of bruises blossoming in various shades of brown and purple on his chest. He reached for his bag, intending to pull out an undershirt when he caught a glimpse of Jude.

The doctor’s eyes were shut, hands folded in his lap. His breathing was deep and even, but not natural – a forced calm. 4…3…2…1… Ludger could practically count down with him.

“Jude…?”

“Sorry,” Jude whispered. “Can’t seem to clear my head.”

Ludger dug into his backpack, and pulled out one of their water bottles, wordlessly offering it to him. He didn’t react, eyes still shut.

“Jude.”

Ludger playfully tapped the bottle against his arm, and he finally opened his eyes. Exhaustion weighed heavy on his youthful face in a way that felt unfamiliar, or maybe Ludger had never been in a state to observe him properly. Those slight bags under his eyes clearly hadn’t been built in just a day.

Jude shook his head, ever polite. “I couldn’t—”

“Take it,” Ludger continued, holding the water bottle out. “At this point, the person that isn’t having nightmares is the odd one.”

Ludger’s eyes flicked to Elle, again. Her mouth was open as she slept, curled around her backpack. He half-grinned, motioning to her with a tilt of his head.

“She’s certainly cute, for an odd one,” Jude teased, the vague hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh, believe me, she knows.”

Jude smiled for real, an easy, sincere look; something warm swirled in Ludger’s gut, familiar and pleasant.

He finally took the bottle from Ludger, and downed a couple of sips, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. Jude had opted to stay in his black undershirt, using his coats and shirts as a pillow. The color had come back to his face; he looked good in more ways than one.

“Thank you,” Jude whispered. “It’s…been a long day. Well, couple of days.”

“Tell me about it,” Ludger grunted. “I feel like I got kicked in the stomach.”

“Well, that’s actually a fairly accurate description of what happened.”

Right. Ludger shook his head at his bruises. The morning air felt pleasingly cool on his bare skin, and he stretched away some of the stiffness that came with sleeping on the grass.

“It’s a beautiful day though, isn’t it?”

“It really is,” Jude agreed, but he sounded almost surprised. He looked out onto the orchard, a slow smile spreading across his face as if he were seeing it for the first time. “The air smells like apples.”

It did. With a small thump, Ludger flopped onto his back, pillowing his good arm behind his head. He half-expected Jude to comment on the motion, but he didn’t. Ludger could fall asleep or at least get comfortable almost anywhere—he’d say it was a biproduct of all the travelling he did, but even as a small reedy kid Julius was always getting after him for nodding off on the living room carpet.

Evidently, Jude had already adjusted to his habits; he leaned back on his elbows, joining him.

It was the kind of day Ludger dreamed about as a child, not too hot, not too cold with an easy, gentle breeze. The kind of day for children to eat ice cream and fly kites; for adults to sleep in, indulge in morning kisses and mindless pillow talk. Ludger smiled, eyes drifting to Jude instead of the sky, not for any particular reason. It was oddly rewarding to watch the muscles in his jaw, neck, and arms relax as the tension drained from his body bit by bit, like an ice cube dissolving in warm water.

Jude didn’t seem to notice, or if he did notice, he didn’t mind Ludger’s staring.

“You know, before everything, when I was in school… I didn’t really have much time to enjoy days like this,” Jude whispered. “I regret it, I think. Missing all those sunrises, and for what?”

“To save lives, doctor,” Ludger teased. “I don’t think sunrises mind having a few more people around to watch them. And I don’t think they mind if you missed them either.”

“They came and went just the same, huh?” Jude cracked a smile. “You’re surprisingly wise Ludger.”

“Julius called it airheaded, but I’ll take _surprisingly wise._ I used to work a lot of odd jobs to make ends meet– I understand missing sunrises for something more important.”

Jude’s eyes lit up, like he was genuinely impressed. Ludger made a conscious decision never to tell him about his infomercial days. “Did you ever get your degree?”

“Ah, no.” Jude shook his head, a quiet sorrow on his face. “I didn’t. I was close enough, I guess, when everything happened. Who’s Julius?”

One open-hearted response deserved another, Ludger figured.

“My older brother. I lost him last year.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Jude’s apology didn’t feel like most of the apologies he had received from fellow survivors. It had genuine weight, regret. Empathy. His heart ached.

Ludger shook his head, bumping Jude’s shoulder with his good arm. His voice was quiet.

“It’s still a beautiful day.”

Jude bumped back, in silent agreement.

For a moment they just sat there breathing in what was left of the world.

If Ludger could live the rest of his life like this, right here, indulging in these small, peaceful moments— No, he couldn’t allow himself to follow that train of thought. There was a future outside these fences for Elle, for Jude too. Life would continue on, after him. Ludger had to make sure it was set up right.

He sat up, “Should probably cover these bruises up. Spent a good period of yesterday shirtless too, that didn’t help—”

Pain shot up through his arm as he tried to drag his heavy bag into his lap. He bit the inside of his cheek to hide his grunt, but Jude picked up on it immediately, sitting up as well.

“Don’t push yourself. Your arm is still healing.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m not the one to apologize to. Just go easy on your body,” Jude said.

“Right.” Ludger smiled apologetically, moving to painstakingly raise the undershirt over his head.

Jude’s hand covered his arm. “I’m saying you should let me help you with that, Ludger.”

Ludger blinked twice, feeling his face heat a bit as he handed the gray tank top to Jude. He couldn’t resist.

“You really want to help me with my shirt, huh?”

“Of course, with your wounds and—” Jude stopped, clearly running their previous conversation through his head. A strange mix of emotions welled in Ludger’s chest as Jude’s eyes widened and his face lit in an absolutely brilliant blush.

“I meant… I’ve had to dress a lot of—I don’t even think about it anymore— I didn’t mean— I am so sorry.”

Teasing someone when they’d laugh about it was one thing, but teasing Jude when he so clearly took what he was doing deeply seriously, was just…embarrassing. Ludger felt like a raunchy comedian playing to a nunnery.

"No, no!” He backpedaled, face well on its own to matching Jude’s in color, but that might have had something to do with the fact Jude was now _staring_ at his chest, as if seeing it in an entirely new light. “I didn’t mean to—that was a terrible time to joke. _I’m_ sorry. Forget I said anything.”

Jude cleared his throat, as did Ludger.

“Do you two have a cold or something?” Elle asked, crabby. She was rubbing her eyes with her arm. Jude and Ludger stared. “What are you doing?”

“Ah,” Ludger said, glancing at Jude. He still was holding his undershirt. “Jude was helping me get dressed.”

Elle raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Okay.” She turned on her side, going back to sleep, completely unperturbed.

Ludger felt his soul move to another plane of existence.

Jude cleared his throat again. “Keep your arms like this,” he explained, arms stretched out in front of him. Ludger complied, and Jude bunched the undershirt up in his hands, carefully raising it over Ludger’s wounds.

Admittedly, it was easier than dressing himself.

He tugged the grey undershirt down with one hand, before Jude could smooth it down. Something about Jude smoothing his clothes felt intimate in a way that Ludger was confident meant trouble for them both.

“Thanks, doctor.”

“No problem, Ludger,” Jude replied. A good amount of light had come back into his eyes, embarrassment triumphing over any residual memories of his nightmare at least. He looked at Elle, who was already snoring softly again. “We should both try to get back to sleep.”

“You’re right,” Ludger agreed.

Neither of them made a move to lay down. A few seconds passed, and they both paused, blinked, and stifled a laugh into their hands.

“Guess we’re up,” Jude said.

Ludger smiled, nodding.

“Ludger,” Jude said, slowly, before shaking his head, clearly thinking twice about airing his thoughts.

The smile dripped off Ludger’s face. “What is it?”

“Are you alright? I don’t mean to pry but…with everything that’s happened I…”

Jude’s eyes were on his arm. Ah. That. All of it. Ludger hesitated.

“When I think about what might happen…I don’t know.”

The bite on Julius’s arm. Silence, strangling silence—not now. Ludger shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He focused on Elle. “When I think about Elle, I feel differently.”

“She makes you want to fight with all you have, doesn’t she?”

Ludger pushed some hair behind her ear. “And more than I have, too.”

“That’s… good.”

The loss in Jude’s voice surprised him, and Ludger abruptly realized just how little about Jude he actually knew: he didn’t finish school, he was willing to look after Elle without a second thought, and he had kind eyes—a warm amber color that reminded Ludger of honey and hot tea. That was it. Two facts and a physical observation. Ludger should probably do something about that.

“What about—”

“Is there a doctor here? Someone help!” A male voice, semi-hysterical.

Jude was on his feet in seconds. “I can help!”

Without waiting for Ludger’s response, he ran into the confused, babbling crowd. Elle shot up, fully awake. “What’s going on?”

“I think someone’s hurt.”

“I thought this place was supposed to be safe.”

“So did I,” Ludger replied, anxiety forming a loose knot in his stomach. “We should stay ba—”

“Jude left his bag; we have to bring it to him!”

Elle was already running ahead, Jude’s bag slung around her shoulders. The knot in Ludger’s stomach tightened.

Jude was on the ground beside a sleeping woman, pressing his fingers to her neck, checking her pulse. A man, her husband, judging by the ring on his finger, was behind him. He was wringing his hands. A small crowd had gathered around them. Ludger and Elle pushed through them; Elle clutching Jude’s medical bag like a precious treasure.

“She’s burning up. Was she injured recently? Any possibility of a gunshot wound?”

“No—it’s—” the man stumbled, hesitating. Jude’s eyes narrowed.

“Please, I can’t do anything to help if you don’t tell me what’s happened,” his voice was level, but it was tinged with the slightest bit of frustration.

“There’s nothing to tell— she just won’t wake up! We just—just—”

“Just?” Jude pressed; he had clearly been through enough lies to last a lifetime. This was a different Jude than the calm, kind boy that had helped bandage Ludger’s arm, different from the determined Jude who had agreed to take on Elle. This Jude just looked sad, like he already knew the answer and was just waiting for the husband to catch up.

“We were attacked a week ago, but I was able to take the infected out, myself,” the man said. He gestured to a long pipe next to his bag. It was still stained. The crease between Jude’s eyebrows only grew.

“Did the infected get close enough to her to break skin? Did you check—”

A hum interrupted them. It was strange and high-pitched, nothing about it natural. At first Ludger thought it came from one of the families around them, but the sound was too close for that. It was coming from the woman, escaping through her closed lips, and growing in volume.

The look that crossed Jude’s face made it clear what was happening. Ludger lunged for the pipe.

“What the hell are you doing!?” the man cried.

“She’s turning,” Jude confirmed. “Everyone please—stay calm and get back!”

Everyone did not stay calm, but they did clear the way. Jude moved to fall back as well, likely to grab some sort of weapon, when the husband grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Listen to me, I’m telling you Isla wasn’t bitten!”

“Jude!” Elle cried.

“Elle, go back to the camp,” Ludger ordered.

“But—”

“I’m okay Elle,” Jude said. His face was perfectly neutral, but Ludger could recognize the hint of panic in his eyes as they flicked to the woman. Elle turned, running as fast as she could.

Jude was speaking quickly, trying to step out of the man’s hold. “Isla must have kept the bite from you. I’m very sorry but you need to—”

Ludger had never witnessed a transformation before; there was something deeply alarming about how ordinary it was. She didn’t move in jerky motions, or turn her head in a circle. The sound coming from her throat tapered off into silence, and Isla simply sat up.

She looked at her husband with a perfectly neutral expression.

“Isla?” he asked, releasing Jude in order to touch her cheek.

“Don’t!” Jude shouted, but it was too late.

Everything happened at once. Isla grabbed the man, nails digging into his back as she opened her mouth and bit down once, twice. She was eating him, chewing and swallowing.

He stumbled back into Jude, screaming. They fell to the ground in a bloody pile, Isla moving up from her husband’s shoulder to gnaw on his throat. It was only a matter of time before she set her sights on the warm flesh now underneath her. Jude was pinned, struggling to pull away from the tangled couple.

Ludger brought the pipe down onto Isla’s head with all his strength. There was a cracking noise and the woman tipped forward. Ludger grabbed her by the back of the shirt and threw her back a few feet before she could land on Jude and her husband.

He’d have to hit her again before she stood up but—

“Jude!” He said, offering his hand to the blood-covered doctor. The man was still on top of him, sputtering and choking. Jude pushed him off, mostly, and was about to grab Ludger’s hand, when the sounds the man was making changed.

High-pitched, a vibrating, shrill hum like the scream of a child. He was turning.

The man grabbed Jude’s arm with startling speed and strength, pulling the doctor down to the grass.

“Jude!”

The husband’s mouth was open wide, jaw practically unhinged as drool ran down from his chin and onto Jude.

“No!”

Elle burst forward, ducking between Ludger’s legs— when did she!?

“You don’t want to hurt him!”

The infected man froze. For a moment, he looked at Elle. His posture changed.

That was all it took, Ludger brought the pipe down, slamming it into the arm that was gripping Jude. The bone cracked, the sound crunchy and horrible, but the man’s face showed no pain– the mark of any infected. A kick to the face and several more whacks of the pipe and he was on the grass as well. Blood ran down the end of the pipe in Ludger’s hand.

People around them were screaming. Ludger only swallowed, staring at the corpse of the ordinary, concerned man he had been talking to, only moments before.

“Ludger!” Jude’s voice. Isla had gotten up, she was heading toward Elle— of course she was heading toward Elle— Ludger leapt toward her and—

At the sound of a shotgun being pumped, Ludger abruptly switched direction, tackling his daughter. Above them, the gunshot burst through the air and into Isla.

The blood that spattered onto his back was still warm. It smelled like copper. Like Ludger’s old apartment. He held Elle closer to his chest.

Another pump.

“Stop—!” Jude cried, right before another shot was fired. The sound was different, from another gun.

“Jude!” Ludger sat up, horrified, but Jude was fine—the shot had been for the husband next to him, bullet lodging in his already-broken skull.

Jude looked ill, covered by a new spray of fresh blood.

“He was already dead!” he yelled to the owner of the second shotgun. It looked to be a young woman in her twenties. She looked confused, yet…serene, head tilted to one side. “You didn’t have to do that!”

“He’s right. You didn’t Muzét,” said a deeper voice.

It belonged to the first shotgun’s owner. He was backlit by the sun, shadow covering his face. Everything about him seemed sharp, from his dark black hair to his long black coat. The kind of person Ludger would spot from a mile away on sheer presence alone.

“I thought we were supposed to fire twice?” She said, resting a hand on her hip and raising a finger into the air.

The man was eerily still, even as he shook his head. “His spine had been compromised with the pipe. He would not be able to move.”

Their discussion was calm, playful even; entirely too subdued for the deaths that had just occurred.

Ludger rubbed Elle’s back, her face was buried in his shirt. She was breathing hard, but unharmed; that was what mattered for now. Ludger looked to Jude, and found him staring back. He looked lost, bloody and stressed.

“—at any rate,” the man said, clearing his throat to get ahold of the conversation again. He turned once more to the three of them, eyes flashing with enough intensity to melt metal. Ludger put a hand on the back of Elle’s head, and felt Jude grab onto his arm, holding tight.

“I must ask all of you to come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How bout that Crestoria???? YEAH. Yeah. Yehayheya.


	6. Blood and Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plugging forward! Thank you everyone for your nice comments so far. :) They mean so much.

The house at the center of the orchard was much, much larger in person. Ludger half-expected to see butlers and maids dashing through the massive halls, carrying silver trays.

It was also shockingly maintained. Someone had been keeping the place clean, and meticulously at that. The floors still shined, and the air felt light, with none of the dust and questionable smells Ludger had come to expect. It was untouched by the apocalypse.

Jude and Ludger hesitated at the door, unsure if they should remove their footwear, but the man, woman, and Elle all strode forward confidently, leaving small dirty footprints in their wake. The woman, Muzét, was not wearing shoes at all.

The intimidating man was carrying the corpse of the husband in a modified bridal carry, his bloody face pressed against his strong chest. Muzét was holding Isla’s corpse - swung over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“What are you going to do with them?” Jude asked.

Muzét twisted her head to look behind her. Her long hair tangled with Isla’s blood-covered arm, and Jude looked away.

“With the bodies? We’re going to study them. We have doctors of our own, you know.”

“You’re studying the infected here?”

“Muzét, that’s enough. We have not questioned them yet.”

The man’s voice seemed to echo even though he was speaking neutrally, at a reasonable volume.

“Questioned?” Ludger asked. “Did we do something wrong?”

The man’s gaze was cutting. Ludger felt like a bug, pinned to a board; it was only a matter of time before this man got bored and started removing his legs for fun.

As if hearing his thoughts, the man’s eyebrows raised, just slightly.

“I have no desire to rob you of your personal liberty. If you would like to go, then you may leave, but if you choose to stay and answer questions, I will allow you and your family to stay in one of the guest rooms for the night. I trust this is a worthy exchange?”

“We have plumbing,” Muzét spoke up. “It’s one of the few places in the world where you can get a decent shower. Trust me, we’ll make it worth your while.”

“Why are you being nice to us?” Jude asked. The suspicion was clear in his voice.

“Erston.”

Jiao appeared abruptly from underneath the massive staircase. The intimidating man, Erston, Ludger assumed, didn’t look toward him but he spoke anyway. “The front gate is secured.”

“Ah, Jiao. Perfect timing. Would you get Presa to collect this woman?”

“Certainly.”

Muzét tilted her head. “Why Presa?”

“She is deceased now, but there is no reason to abuse her body by carrying her in such an undignified way,” Erston said. “She deserves to be moved with respect.”

“Oh dear, I’d hate to be disrespectful,” Muzét simpered. “But I don’t think she minds. I believe once the soul leaves the body, the flesh is just a vessel. Is there really a point to respecting a skeleton’s house?”

“Yes.”

Jude exhaled, looking toward the door. He seemed to be reaching his tipping point. Ludger was getting there as well, ready to take the man up on his offer to let them go. No shower was worth this, especially when there were others outside in much worse situations.

It was then when he noticed Wingul standing by the door. He was hidden in the shadow, but undoubtedly monitoring them both. A chill ran down Ludger’s spine.

No matter what this Erston man said, there was no guarantee his word could be trusted. There was no promise that Wingul wouldn’t strike them down the moment they went for the door.

Ludger nudged Jude with his shoulder, motioning to Wingul with his eyes, as Erston and Muzét debated what it meant to desecrate a human corpse. The muscles in Jude’s jaw tightened, and he nodded.

“We’ll stay.”

“What?” Elle turned around. “Really Jude? You want to stay with these guys?”

“Just for a little while Elle. We’ll see what they have to say.”

The man nodded, seeming pleased with the answer. “Very well then—”

Agria and Presa were returning down the stairs. Presa already had her arms out for Isla, who Muzét reluctantly handed over. Agria was fidgeting slightly as she looked demurely at Erston from under her eyelashes. Elle looked at Ludger as if to say ‘can you believe this?’ He shrugged.

“Agria will show you to your rooms. We can reconvene for dinner, after you have cleaned up.”

“What about the bodies?” Jude asked. “What are you going to do with them?”

“That will be discussed at dinner.”

Ludger sighed, but didn’t have it in him to argue. Jude did, but seemed to be staying mum for Ludger’s sake.

“Lots of secrets in this house…” Elle mumbled. Ludger nodded.

“Ludger, do you need a hand?” Jude whispered, offering his shoulder, and Ludger smiled, punching it once.

“I’m alright for now Jude, thanks.”

The truth was, Ludger had definitely undone the healing that had happened with all his pipe swinging, but it was nothing a little shower wouldn’t fix. Probably.

Jude’s eyes narrowed, just slightly, as they were shown to their room.

Agria’s voice lacked the previous night’s punch. She seemed to be going through the motions, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to see if she was being watched. There were bags under her eyes. Ludger wondered when the last time she slept was.

“You can sleep here. This is the only room available, so get used to sharing. There’s only one bathroom too.”

Jude raised an eyebrow. “A mansion this big and we have to share a room? What’s in the other rooms?”

Agria made a face like Jude had just eaten something gross off the floor. “We have patients, loser.”

“…What?”

“Wow, you guys really don’t know anything. Figure it out-- wander around, see what happens,” Agria said, tossing her hair behind her. A devious light flashed in her empty eyes as she turned to leave.

“Oh, and by the way, I gave you the room without hot water. That’s for earlier. Enjoy the chills, weaklings!”

And then she was off, laughing merrily and leaving Jude and Ludger to stare at her back.

“You don’t think this place is serving as a hospital of some kind, do you?” Jude asked.

Ludger shrugged. “Who can say?”

“I wanted hot water…” Elle mumbled. “What is _wrong_ with her?”

Ludger ruffled her hair. “It’ll still be better than a river.”

“Everything’s better than a river, that doesn’t make it good.”

Jude chuckled. “Why don’t you go first, Elle. You can test it out for us, and if it’s too cold—”

“I’m not showering first. You two are gross and bloody and I don’t want to sit with you until you clean off. Jude first!”

Elle walked into the bedroom, kicked off her shoes, and hopped onto the canopy bed like she did such things all the time.

Jude blinked, staring at her, and Ludger grinned, sitting next to Elle on the bed.

“You’re really sure…?” Jude asked.

“You deserve it, you had a hard day!” Elle said.

For a moment, the image of Jude’s face after Muzét fired her gun flashed in the back of Ludger’s head. His voice had been so desperate, his usually bright eyes dark and hopeless.

The blood spatter had dried on his face, shirt and arms. A hard day—that was the tip of the iceberg, lately.

“Go on, Jude,” Ludger encouraged. “Take as long as you want.”

Jude seemed to melt at their words. The hesitant smile that spread across his face was familiar, real. Ludger felt himself relax at the sight of it.

“Well, alright then. Thank you both.”

He went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, and it wasn’t long before the sounds of the shower echoed through the bedroom, accompanied by Jude’s quiet hum.

Ludger sat on the bed with Elle, looking up at the ceiling. It had been so long since he’d heard the sounds of working plumbing and sat on a bed that wasn’t covered in dust; even longer since it was a bed that had been given to him, not just taken. He sighed, long and content.

This place was miraculous, but its mere existence was nerve-wracking. What on earth would they be expected to give in exchange for this level of comfort? What “questions” could be so important?

“He sounds like Julius,” Elle said, nudging Ludger’s leg with her own. Her bare feet hung off the bed, and she was swinging them lightly. God, Ludger was so lucky to have her.

“Jude?”

“Yeah, he’s humming. Julius would always—”

A gunshot, silence, silence, silence—Ludger shut his eyes. “I know, Elle.”

Elle was quiet for a long moment, before Ludger felt a hand on his arm, just under his messy bandages.

“Did doctor Jude say you were gonna be okay?”

For a moment the air had been knocked out of him, Elle’s eyes were so calm, so normal, like she had asked him what a word meant or shared some fleeting observation. At Ludger’s silence she tightened her grip on his arm. He held back a wince.

“He’s been looking at you funny all day. I want to know the truth.”

A thousand different ways to lie appeared in his head, soothing and approachable. He wouldn’t have to do this, he could pretend and forget—and with enough luck, Elle would never have to know.

But Elle had asked for the truth, and Ludger had never been lucky.

He took her hand in his own, clearly not the answer she wanted, but to her credit she didn’t say a word, even as her lower lip started trembling.

“I can’t remember. I didn’t see. Jude did everything he could, but these wounds on my arm,” he gestured to the bandage, “make it hard for him to see too. We just have to wait for something to happen, or not. So, for now, Elle, we don’t know.”

Elle’s face was blank, her eyebrows slowly drawing together in confusion. Ludger waited. At times like this, he wanted to reach out and hold her more than anything in the world, but this wasn’t about what he wanted. Elle needed space to think. She needed time to process.

The confusion gave way to horror, despair. Ludger bit his tongue to keep from trying to lie it away. She’d accept a lie now—she was still young enough. But no.

He had tried to shield her from the world, tried to keep so many horrible things hidden from her, but that— oh, _that_ , had only led to her calling him “Ludger”. _That_ had only pushed her away and made her feel that she had to get stronger to support _him_ —that she had to _prove_ _herself_ to be his equal.

It had only hurt them both.

Ludger could soften the blow as best he could, but he couldn’t keep the blow from her completely. He wouldn’t leave her with the regrets Julius left him with. He wouldn’t leave her asking why.

Elle had to know what was happening; she deserved to know the truth, difficult or not.

Ludger forced himself to stay calm and listen. After a moment, she spoke.

“I don’t want this. I don’t want this at all.”

“Elle…” Ludger swallowed over the lump in his throat. His resolve crumbled and he reached out and pulled his daughter into his lap, her arms wrapping around him as easily as they did when she was so small. He pressed his lips to her hair, searching for any words to heal this, to take this burden away from her.

Dammit, he really hadn’t changed at all, had he? There was nothing. Nothing, except…

“You know what Jude said when I was trying to figure out what to do?”

Elle didn’t answer, but her grip had tightened, so he knew she was listening.

“He said that he wasn’t giving up on me, so I shouldn’t give up either,” Ludger said. “And it made me think, that even though this…situation is scary— we don’t have to give up. We can just keep doing what we’ve been doing and try the best we can, like we always have.”

Elle was silent.

Ludger had been terrified of fatherhood when Lara came to him with the positive test, one foot in the hospital, the other in the apocalypse. He had been terrified that he wouldn’t know what to do, that he’d be lost, and that the world would fall apart before he gained any skills in parenting.

Ludger had been correct, Elle was nothing like he expected, the world had gone to hell and worse. He was completely helpless, utterly unprepared for this new way of life, and yet there was absolutely nothing in the world that felt more natural than trying to make Elle smile.

“I’m not giving up, Elle. I’m going to do everything I can to survive, and I can’t promise you forever. I don’t know what’s going to happen, and that’s scary—but I am going to make sure you are taken care of.”

The front of Ludger’s shirt was wet. He gently pulled Elle’s face out from his chest, and wiped her eyes, waiting, listening.

“I won’t give up,” she mumbled, after a long moment. Her voice was heavy with tears, but growing in confidence. “I won’t give up either. I promise.”

Ludger linked their pinkies together. “I promise too. No giving up.”

The shower stopped. Somewhere in the bathroom, Jude sneezed and it echoed a bit. Elle pulled out of Ludger’s hold and wiped her face on one of the blankets. Ludger rubbed the back of his neck as the door opened, filling the room with the fresh clean smell of shampoo.

Jude was dressed in a fresh t-shirt and pajama pants, all black. He had a small white towel around his neck. His bangs were surprisingly long, almost hanging in front of his eyes in a relaxed shaggy look, as opposed to the spikes Ludger had grown used to.

“Sorry I took so long, the water was nicer than I expected, and it looks like there’s a change of clothes laid out for all of us. I don’t know how they got our sizes so quickly…” Jude trailed off, seeing Elle’s face. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine!” Elle blurted, all but shoving Ludger off the bed. “It’s Ludger’s turn now!”

“Okay, okay…” Ludger acquiesced. Really, he wanted to stay, make sure she was okay, answer any questions she had and—ugh. Shower. Fine. He nudged Jude as he passed him. “She knows everything now. If you don’t mind, could you keep an eye on her? Answer questions?”

Understanding passed across Jude’s face, softening his features, as he looked at the now-sulking girl on the bed. “Of course.”

“Thank you, Jude.”

The shower fit the rest of the house, impossibly clean and decadent. There was an all-black set of pajamas laid out for him as well, alongside a long black shirt that Ludger assumed Erston had intended for Elle to wear as a dress. Shampoo, conditioner, towels… Jude’s medical bag sat open on the counter beside a roll of gauze.

A small note had been set next to the gauze, with a white pill.

The handwriting was cute, surprisingly neat.

_Ludger-_

_This is a painkiller. Please take it._

_Clean your wounds and use the full roll of gauze._

There was more text underneath it, but Jude had crossed it out, and replaced it with one line:

_Your health is important._

_-Jude_

This guy…Almost bitten and still thinking about Ludger.

He held the small note in his hands for a second, fighting back the urge to laugh that Jude had…signed it, of all things, but mainly he just felt lighter. The pressure on his shoulders had subtly lifted, like water evaporating from a wide, clear lake on a summer morning.

That is, until he noticed his reflection in the mirror. He looked like shit, plain and simple. Paler than usual, his undershirt and hands had dried copper-red, sweat and Elle’s tears leaving dark splotches on his chest. With a sigh, he undressed, examining the bruising on his chest and stomach.

It would just have to heal, like everything else.

Popping the pill in his mouth, he turned on the shower. He dodged the freezing spray, peeling the old bandages away from his scabbing skin and tossing them into the overly decorated trashcan.

Ludger once again, felt drastically unprepared for whatever he was going to have to pay for this—but at least he would be facing it _clean_. He angled himself, careful to keep the water from his wounds for the moment.

Medicine was hard to come by, especially painkillers. Showers near impossible. To have both was unheard of.

Even cold, the water was everything Ludger had dreamed about for months. It felt like peace.

If he missed one thing the most, since the collapse of the world, it was feeling _clean_. For ten years now it had felt like everyone and everything had been covered in a fine layer of grime, dirt, and blood. To be able to scrub and wash that away? It was a fucking _holiday_.

He shut his eyes, face in the spray, and tried not to think. It became easier, when he turned, and started cleaning the blood and dirt from his wounds. He bit his tongue, knowing sound carried, and leaned against the wall for support.

The shower ran red, and Ludger shut his eyes from that too, breathing in nothing but the clean mint smell of the shampoo.

It was still the best he’d felt all week.


	7. Belly of the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Gross nasty gore SORRY

When Ludger was sixteen he’d grazed Julius’s car on the concrete base of a streetlight in the grocery store parking lot two minutes from their apartment complex. The metal had made the worst sound imaginable: crunchy and shrill. Definite.

He’d somehow managed to drive the car home, but when he pulled (sloppily) into their parking space and tried the door, it wouldn't budge. It was jammed— the crash must have warped it. Ludger should have used the _other_ door, gotten out of the car, and inspected the damage, but he didn’t.

In that moment, Ludger sat there.

Left hand still clutching the broken door handle, he just sat there, staring at nothing in particular. His gut churned in a mixture of guilt and pure nerves. A bird chirped in a tree outside the car window, hopped up a branch, and flew away. Ludger watched it, wished it luck. He was breathing, simple, mechanical breaths. The air conditioning had shut off, which was unpleasant, especially since the car was emitting a rather wretched burnt-rubber smell. The inside of the car was heating up, and so was Ludger, but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his hand from the broken door. He couldn’t move.

Ludger would never forget that feeling of vacant, regretful, stasis.

The feeling revived years later, no less potent than it was in his childhood, fitting to his body like an itchy moth-eaten sweater as he sat, perfectly still, on the massive canopy bed inside Erston’s ridiculous orchard mansion.

The bedroom door was shut. Ludger looked at it, hands on his knees.

_Wander around, see what happens,_ Agria had said. Staring at that door, overtaken by all the horrific possibilities, Ludger was 100% certain he did _not_ want to take her advice. He was also 100% certain he had to.

Elle was napping beside him, arms and legs spread out wide. Each limb was wrapped in a different blanket. She looked like the cutest, comfiest octopus in the world.

Ludger looked at her instead, lifting a blanket that had been shoved to the foot of the bed so that it covered her stomach. Jude was fussing around nearby, putting on his worn, fingerless gloves and organizing their bags by the door in case they had to make a quick exit. He had the right idea.

Something was going on here. It was probably bad, definitely dangerous, and they had walked right into it—or at least _selected it_ over a potentially more dangerous option. They needed to be ready to confront what they agreed to, whatever it was.

The bedroom was safe. The shower was great. But eventually, they were going to have to leave this room and deal with the damage. Ludger needed to _stand up_. Julius wasn’t going to tap on the window and coax him out this time.

He took a deep breath, crossed the room to his bag, and pulled out the small-but-mighty sledgehammer he had looted from a home goods store. He set it by octo-Elle, the corner of his mouth quirking downward when he noticed the mattress sink a little with the weight.

“Hammer’s next to you, Elle.”

“Yeah ‘kay,” she mumbled, still half asleep.

“You have your whistle?” he checked, hand on her shoulder. Elle groaned pushing his hand off. She reached under her shirt, producing the large metal whistle Julius had stolen for her on her sixth birthday. It was loud, awful sounding. Elle loved it, but after a week of no sleep for either of them, and lots of regrets, Julius and Ludger had to lay down the law and say it was for emergencies only.

“Yeah, got it, go away,” Elle grumbled, turning on her side. Ludger smiled, brushing her hair back once, for courage, before looking to Jude.

“Want to take a look around?” he asked.

Jude’s eyes were wide. Ludger blinked, confused for a moment, before realizing that handing an 8-year-old a sledgehammer was probably a bit eccentric. He shrugged.

Jude was not deterred. “Has she ever used that?”

“Seeing it is enough, usually.”

Jude’s shoulders relaxed, as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll admit, it does make me feel a little more at ease to know that she can defend herself.”

Ludger nodded, glancing at Elle one more time. He hated leaving her, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Elle was capable and independent when she needed to be. She would be fine. He had to keep telling himself that. He picked up his metal pipe and went to the door.

“I’m right behind you,” Jude offered. Ludger felt a small spark of courage at the optimism in his voice, or maybe it was the surprisingly sturdy golf club he was holding. Whatever magic it was, it gave Ludger the ability to close his hand firmly around the door handle.

With a deep breath, he let in the rest of the world.

The mansion was massive, absurd. Their room was situated at the end of a long hallway. Following the hall to its natural conclusion seemed to be as good of a path as any. They took turns jiggling the handles on ornate doors, shrugging at each other when they were revealed to be locked.

Ludger wasn’t sure why he expected anything in this place to be easy. They pressed on, navigating farther and farther away from Elle. The sound of the whistle would carry. Ludger knew it would, but he couldn’t help but fear.

A large, dilapidated mural of four horses running through the orchard on the wall between the two master staircases pulled him from his thoughts. It screamed _wealthy excess_ in loud capital letters. He was reminded of his brief stint as a window painter in high school. Never again— just looking at the size of this thing made his arms hurt.

He made long suffering eye contact with the horse on the left: it was mid-gallop, neck tilted down just a little more the others, like it was questioning _why_ it was running in the first place. Someone had chipped the paint on its muzzle in the shape of a moustache. He pointed at it, and Jude laughed.

“It looks like Erston’s group isn’t so focused on maintaining the original interior design here,” Jude said. “At least, not the usual kind—have you noticed how clean everything else is? How long do you think that took them?”

“Depends on how long it took for survivors to come back here,” Ludger replied, watching as the smile on Jude’s face faded into something more knowing, tired.

In the early days most people had yielded to the rules set out by the authorities and abandoned vast regions that had been labeled “infected.” Anything to stop the spread. People lost their homes, livelihoods, in order to run to the next safe area. Of course, that safe area would quickly turn unsafe, and they would have to run again. It was untenable.

Ludger had spent those days barricading in the break room at the hospital with Julius and Elle. Stealing baby formula and looting vending machines, just biding time, praying for aid.

Instead of aid, the rules changed. Fences and walls were built, not to protect, but to _contain_. Entire countries were determined lost causes and cut off like a rotten limb. Anyone who was counting on assistance, Ludger, Elle, and Julius included—learned a painful lesson.

Time marched on, even through the rot. Cracked windows, layers of dust.

“Ludger,” Jude said, interrupting his thoughts. He was pointing to a door nestled to the far right of the mural. It had been painted to look like it was part of the base of one of the orchard’s trees, the steel doorknob molded in the shape of a cute cartoon apple.

“I think I saw Presa carrying the bodies through there. I’d like to check that out, if that’s alright with you.”

Jude really was just going to tackle the worst possible place as fast as he could, wasn’t he? Stomach sinking, Ludger nodded.

The apple door gave way to a descending staircase, leading to a short hallway, and crusty cellar door. There were brown bloodstains on the wood stairs and white walls. Some looked like handprints.

_Ah, so they went with a murder basement,_ Ludger thought. He wished he could have been more surprised. He sighed, stepping forward, when Jude’s hand hit his chest.

There were voices coming from behind the door. A man’s voice, too high to be Erston’s, was arguing loudly with an airy voice that could only belong to Muzét.

Whatever they were discussing, it was heated, at least on the man’s end. Ludger hesitated for a moment, making eye contact with Jude. He nodded, and they quietly advanced.

“—telling you they just need to be disposed of.”

“But we carried them all this way.”

A scream, high-pitched, agonizing. The sort of sound made only when someone emptied out their lungs completely.

“Muzét’s in trouble!” Jude cried.

Without thinking, Ludger’s hand flew to the doorknob, twisting it ineffectively. Locked. Jude caught his wrist, pressing the golf club in his hand.

“Hold this please and get back!”

“Huh?”

Cluelessly, Ludger pressed himself to the wall, armed with Jude’s golf club and his own metal pipe, and watched as Jude took a few steps back, exhaled, and ran toward the door with all the intensity of a football player about to tackle.

Shit, was he going to _break the door down?_

“Jude, hold on!”

“We don’t have time!”

He crashed into the door, right shoulder first. The door made a loud cracking sound, splintering at the lock, partially cracking open wide enough for Ludger to kick it out fully, as Jude stumbled back, clutching his shoulder.

Opening the door was a mistake; the smell of _rot_ was intense enough to make Ludger’s eyes water.

“What the—”

A man in a white lab coat was staring at them, wide-eyed. He was wearing a too-loose medical mask, secured to his face with a pair of dirty spectacles.

“Oh,” Muzét said, from where she was sitting on the floor, pristine and uninjured. “There were a couple of cute boys under all that blood and grime.”

“You’re not hurt,” Jude said, breathless. He was wincing a bit, holding his shoulder.

“My door!” the man in the lab coat exclaimed. “Why would you just break it open like that? Are you animals?”

“We heard screaming—” Ludger explained.

“So you break down a door to head _toward_ the scream? Altruism is well and good until you’re bitten for it. How on earth have you managed to survive this long?”

Ludger flushed. His body had just reacted without thinking, but the man made a point. What was he going to do? He had a metal pipe, and a golf club. Still…he couldn’t have just ignored the scream. He glanced toward Jude for back-up and felt his stomach drop.

Jude was ghostly pale. He was staring in straight ahead at the right side of the room which had previously been hidden by the doorframe. Steeling himself, Ludger followed his gaze.

Bodies. A good amount. They weren’t piled, exactly; they were resting in organized lines on old, deteriorated mattresses. Some were tied down with rope and wire, others were just lying there, still. Isla and her husband were in the still category. Their crushed skulls and shotgun wounds were on full display, just two more corpses in the room, but corpses Ludger knew, recognized— assisted in. Somehow seeing their bodies again, like this, made guilt pierce through his stomach more forcefully than killing them had.

At least they were quiet. A woman, heavily decomposed, was tied to one of the mattresses in the center. A tube in her wrist was connected to an IV drip, and an incision had been made in the base of her neck, all the way down to the lower border of her ribcage. Her skin had been peeled back and held in place with metal pins; rusty brown organs were pulsing, _shifting_ in her chest as she writhed, jaw opening and closing.

Ludger made the mistake of meeting her eyes, wild, bloodshot and desperate. She was making high, cooing sounds, spittle trailing down her chin. The image of Elle as an infant flashed in Ludger’s head; the sounds she made as a baby, teething, adorable— _fuck_.

The involuntary comparison made something harsh lurch in his stomach, wretched, awful; his whole body recoiled, rejecting the sight in front of him, emotionally, physically, whatever it took— as long as it was _away_ from him.

Reflex pushed his hand to cover his nose and mouth, as he hunched forward, shutting his eyes, silently willing himself not to get sick. Not here. Not now.

The woman yelled, and Ludger realized she was the scream they heard. _She_ was who they came to _help._ This was worse than he could have imagined. Why did they leave the room, no, why did Ludger ever leave the _car_?

“Ah, Balan, they don’t look so well,” Muzét announced. “A little green.”

“They weren’t supposed to come down here…” the man in the lab coat mumbled. “Oh, this is a fine mess. Erston is going to _levitate_.”

“Oh boy, I hope so,” Muzet said. “I think he’s more likely to freeze over though. Destroy you with a single stare, how wonderful.”

“You and I have very different definitions of _wonderful._ ”

“What are you doing to them?”

Jude’s usually quiet voice rose over Muzét and Balan’s chatter with ease.

The scientist’s voice was calm, as if trying to calm a wild animal. “I know how the mattresses look, but I assure you what is happening here is purely scientific—"

“—What, no! I don’t care how “scientific” it is,” Jude burst out, all sincere anger. “This is inhumane!”

“Pardon? Look here,” Balan said. He seemed genuinely taken aback. “These corpses are infected. They stopped being human a long time ago.”

For a moment, Ludger thought Jude was going to take a swing at him. His gloved fists were clenched, eyes blazing, but they hung still at his side. Ludger opened his mouth to try and say something, anything calming, but Jude pivoted, changing direction and booking it toward the infected woman.

“Jude—!” Ludger called out, reaching to grab his elbow a second too late. Jude didn’t notice. He walked past the dead bodies, stepping over some of the still-moving infected to investigate the woman’s IV.

His voice was calm, confident. “If this is legitimate research, I want to look at it for myself, not hear about it secondhand. I won’t touch I prom—…"

Jude trailed off. He blinked, once, twice, frozen in place, as he read whatever was written on the IV bag. His whole posture changed. His composed confidence from seconds earlier flipped into animalistic desperation. He reached up, roughly tugged the bag from the hanger. The whole thing shook. 

“Hey! Hey, _hey_! Do _not_ touch that!” Balan yelled, clearing the corpses with practiced ease. Jude dropped the bag, hardly seeming to see it. It hit the floor with a wet squelching sound. His hands were shaking. Ludger was already running toward him, dropping the pipe and golf club. Something was wrong, something was definitely, definitely, wrong.

“What the hell are you doing, man!?” Balan shouted, crouching to pick up the blood bag, when Jude punched him, hard across the face. He toppled at the force of the impact, slamming onto the infected woman, who _screeched_ , arms and legs struggling against the restraints, mouth opening and closing, going for Balan’s head.

“What on earth!? Balan!” Muzét cried, frantically attempting to untangle Balan from the infected woman. Ludger had his hands full, arms locked around Jude’s midsection.

“Ludger, let go of me!” he yelled, but his voice sounded shattered, fragile. Unfortunately, his struggling was anything but.

“You have to _calm_ _down_ first!” Ludger commanded, but Jude only struggled harder. His elbow slid against the bandages on Ludger’s arm purposefully, and Ludger sucked in a pained gasp, grip loosening enough for Jude to scramble out of his hold.

“Sorry,” Jude said. Regret flashed on his face for a fraction of a second, but it melted into something else, something stronger. He lunged for Balan again, who Muzét had managed to get upright, away from the infected woman. 

_“Jude!”_

Whatever Jude was trying to do wasn’t going to help him; Ludger knew the look in his eyes. Pure, unadulterated, despair. Whatever he wanted to fight; he had already lost. Ludger grit his teeth, knowing what he had to do, but hating the idea of it.

_Sorry, Jude,_ he thought. _But you’re not giving me much of a choice here._

Ludger leapt forward, hand flying to Jude’s injured shoulder. Jude’s eyes widened as Ludger’s fingers closed around it, squeezing. The sound Jude made— a sharp, pained intake of breath— made Ludger's heart ache. Dislocating it from this angle would be easy, but Ludger wasn’t looking to do that.

“ _Listen_ to me—” Ludger whispered, pulling Jude down, other hand pinning his left wrist to his back. “What you’re trying to do— you’re going to regret it when you can think clearly. Stop attacking and breathe.”

Jude continued to struggle for a few painful seconds, before his eyes shut, and he went limp. Ludger released him immediately.

They were both breathing hard. Muzét and Balan were staring at them with baffled expressions. Ludger swallowed, returning his focus to Jude, who was curled in on himself. His breath left him in quiet, choked sobs. Ludger rubbed his back.

“Can someone please explain what’s going on here? I’m so confused,” Muzét said, finally breaking the silence. Balan and Ludger both shook their heads at her, but evidently, her words were all it took to get Jude to start talking.

_"_ My name is Jude Mathis,” he said, voice pure fury. This clearly meant something to Balan, as his entire face seemed to go slack with shock.

“That’s…” Balan said, “Oh, _god_.”

“I think I see it now…” Muzét mumbled, finger to her chin, held tilted just so.

“Then you should understand why—you should know!” Ludger’s heart pulled at the agony in Jude’s voice. His fists were clenched hard against the floor.

“That blood bag of yours says _Ellen Mathis.”_

He looked small, furious, _lost_.

“What the hell have you done to my _mom_?”


	8. Scary Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our first Elle chapter :') yayy

Dinner was ready. Elle Mel Marta-Kresnik knew this because someone had knocked on the door and said “dinner is ready” in a voice that was all low and serious and probably meant that dinner was going to be something kind of bad.

Ludger still hadn’t come back, so Elle figured it just fell to her to get him and Jude a plate set up. She could always call him for dinner with the whistle, but he’d probably smell it and come running anyway. He was kind of like a dog, only older. She put the whistle back in her shirt and hopped off the bed, opening the door.

It was the guy from before, the one in all black. Elle couldn’t remember his name exactly but she could remember that it made her think of a bird. Actually, now that she was looking at him properly, the yellow streak in his hair kind of looked like the thing on a cockatiel’s head.

Bird guy was looking above her, like he expected someone taller to answer the door, and made a weird, scrunchy face as he tilted his head down and saw her instead.

“Hi,” Elle offered. Ludger didn’t like her talking to strangers on her own, but bird guy wasn’t a stranger exactly, and Ludger had a whole lot of rules that didn’t make a lot of sense. Elle could make her own decisions.

He didn’t reply. He looked behind her. He didn’t see anyone, so he looked pretty stupid. He was also standing kind of close, which Elle didn’t like.

She made the call to follow one rule. She held up her hammer, looked him right in the eyes and said, “I know how to use this.”

He didn’t seem very frightened, but he did take a step back. Elle was relieved. She thought the whole get-space-with-the-hammer thing was pretty stupid, but it had worked. Ludger knew some things. Sometimes.

“Where are your parents?” he asked. He was tall, but so was everybody. She wasn’t impressed.

“They went looking around like the short girl said to. And only one of them is my Daddy, Jude’s just some guy.”

The guy sighed through his nose, and looked down the hallway. Elle followed his gaze. It was empty. This guy sure liked looking places for nothing, huh.

“They’ll come to dinner probably,” Elle said, consoling the friendless bird man. “Ludger never misses dinner. You can take me, and he’ll catch up.”

He looked at her. Elle looked back, paused, grabbed her backpack and threw it over her shoulder. Were they going or not?

Bird guy shook his head and started walking. He moved in long strides, and Elle had to jog a little to keep up. She preferred it this way. When adults started taking tiny steps like she couldn’t match their pace, it was annoying. Bird guy was okay.

“How come you only have one streak in your hair?” she asked.

“It’s genetic,” he responded, and Elle felt nothing about that. He was kind of boring.

“Oh. Ludger used to dye his hair. He had a black streak or something, he told me it looked super cool, but I know it didn’t.”

Bird guy made a face like he was confused. He probably wasn’t used to having such great conversation, because he was so boring. Elle continued, “You could probably dye your hair too. You could have a red streak. I think it would look better than what you have now.”

He’d really look like a rooster then, which was definitely cooler than a cockatiel. Elle and Ludger had stayed at plenty of farms, and sometimes the owners would be nice and let her help feed the animals in the morning. Elle liked the barn cats the most, but the roosters were cool. Rooster guy didn’t respond though, and Elle sighed. She was really carrying this conversation. Typical.

“Hair dye is kind of hard to find though, so I guess not–”

Rooster guy stopped walking. Elle nearly crashed into him.

“You,” he said. Elle looked past his leg to see the other guy from before. The one with the shotgun. She swallowed.

“I see you’ve made a friend,” the scary man said, voice unexpectedly nice. Elle realized he was referring to her.

She let go of Rooster guy’s leg and put some space between them. They weren’t friends. Elle didn’t really have friends, except for the chickens and the barn cats. Maybe Jude. He was okay. He drew her a picture of a zombie while Ludger was showering and talked to her about turning and brain things that helped her feel a bit better.

“I don’t think we’re friends,” Rooster guy said. Elle nodded. At least they were in agreement.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the scary man replied. His voice was deep. Like, really deep. Uncle Julius’s voice was pretty deep too, but it was also soft. Airy and pretty like the songs he was always humming. Elle felt something clench in her chest, and pulled at one of the strings on her backpack.

“Where are her parents?”

Elle fought the urge to scream, but Rooster guy spoke up before she had the chance to correct him.

“They’re looking around, apparently. Agria made a remark that made them curious.” At Elle’s look, he added, “Only one of them is her parent. The other is an acquaintance.”

So he knew how to listen. That was good.

“I’ll start searching for them now,” Rooster guy offered.

Elle felt a little panic spark through her. She was going to be left alone with shotgun guy?

“Something got you in a hurry, Li?” The scary guy said, and he was smiling. He had the kind of serious face where it should have looked weird for him to smile, but it didn’t. He just looked younger. Elle still didn’t like him.

Also, that definitely wasn’t the name bird guy was called earlier, why did he have two names?

“Don’t start,” Stupid-not-bird-named-bird-guy-Li grumbled. “You look after her, see how easy it is.”

They were talking about her. Elle scowled. “I don’t need a babysitter, you know.”

“I am certain you do not. Allow me to escort you anyway, however. The mansion is large.”

Scary guy said to allow him, but Elle was starting to think she didn’t have much of a choice at all in the matter. Her stomach sank as Li stepped away from her, leaving. He brushed shoulders with the scary guy on his way out even though he didn’t have to.

Guess it was like that. Elle wasn’t sure if this new information made her less afraid or more indifferent toward the intimidating man.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked, deciding to base her opinion of the man on that, instead, and he tilted his head to one side.

“I am not certain, actually. Jiao is preparing it.”

Jiao! Elle grinned - she remembered him. “The big guy with the beard?”

Scary guy blinked a couple times, before nodding slowly, and Elle relaxed.

Jiao was okay. It was hard to imagine such a big guy cooking, but Elle figured it was probably better not to judge a book by its cover. Maybe he’d make the beans he took from Ludger! Elle hoped so, it’d been a while since they had beans. Ludger was always saving them for _emergencies_.

Feeling lighter, Elle took a step closer to the scary guy, showing him her hammer.

“I’ll go with you, for now,” she declared, raising it in the air.

“Very well then,” he said, looking her over. “You must be strong, to carry that.”

“Yeah,” Elle said, long suffering. “It comes with the territory, y’know?”

Scary guy made an approving sound - at least Elle thought it was an approving sound - it was like a speedy exhale through his nose. She didn’t have time to pick it apart, because he started walking in the same long strides as bird guy. Elle jogged after him.

The mansion was big. They passed an ugly horse painting that took up a whole wall. Elle stopped walking, to just… stare at it. The scary guy paused too.

“I am not fond of that, either,” he admitted.

“Why make horses bigger?” Elle asked. “They’re big enough.”

He laughed, and Elle felt a little safer.

“I am afraid I cannot offer a suitable answer to that question. This painting was here when we discovered this place.”

“Huh,” Elle said. “You really cleaned it up.”

“This mansion is the heart of this refuge. If it looks messy, it reflects poorly on the rest of the shelter.”

“I guess that makes sense. It could be cleaner though. The paint’s all peeling and stuff.”

“If I spent too much time and energy cleaning the mansion, I would have to cut down on managing affairs for the shelter. One must keep track of priorities; both mansion and shelter must be maintained equally for the good of all.”

“For the good of all,” Elle repeated. It sounded kind of cool. “I guess it’s kind of hard to have a big house. You’re pretty smart, scary guy!”

“Thank you,” scary guy said. “But please, call me Erston.”

Erston was a weird name, but Elle would allow it.

“Okay Erston,” she said. “I’m Elle.”

“My pleasure, Elle. Shall we continue to the dining hall?”

Elle nodded, following the man to the other end of the hall opposite the mural.

“Oh, sc– Erston, what’s the point of this mansion if you have to keep it so nice?"

Erston frowned. He glanced at something on the horse painting. Elle didn’t notice it up close, but from this distance, there was definitely a door there. Weird.

“We are seeking the preservation and prosperity of mankind – or, more simply put – a cure for infection.”

Elle’s eyes widened. “A big house can help you get rid of zombies?”

“The medical research facility within this house can,” Erston explained, “We are getting ahead of ourselves. I intended to talk to you and your father about this at dinner.”

“You want to talk to Ludger? He doesn’t know anything about zombies. Jude’s the doctor.”

“I want to talk to him about you, Elle.”

“Me?” Something squirmed in the pit of Elle’s stomach. “Why me?”

“I want to know why you were able to communicate with the infected.”

“You were watching?”

Erston frowned. “I heard there was a family being attacked. I was on my way to help, when I saw you step forward and distract the one attacking your friend. I have never seen an infected hesitate or change targets, but this one did, when you asked it to stop.”

Elle remembered the shotgun. It was less creepy now that she knew Erston was just using it to help them.

Erston could be scary, but he didn’t let the zombie get her or Ludger when they were in trouble. If she hadn’t jumped in, he probably would have helped Jude, too. And if he was working on a cure, that made him one of the good guys - that meant he could be trusted. Right?

“I can’t speak zombie or anything,” Elle mumbled. She was shifting from foot to foot, uncomfortable. “But they can usually hear me when I talk, and they usually try to find me wherever I am.”

“Always…?”

Elle nodded, and then swallowed. “It’s been like that, as long as I can remember. They just like me more for some reason. …Erston?”

Elle took a step back.

The face Erston was making reminded her of an old statue she saw when she went to the museum with Ludger and Julius. It had been a fun day, Ludger had helped her climb on all the plastic sculptures, and the halls that were in good condition were wide and empty - perfect for hide-and-seek! Julius helped her find a place to hide, while Ludger counted. He had said she could hide anywhere but the rooms in the back, because they weren’t safe.

Elle snuck over there anyway and saw it then, standing right in the middle of one of the collapsed rooms: it was a statue of a man with a crown. It looked really old - even older than Ludger - and it was made of some kind of dull brown metal. A lot of the ceiling had caved in, and it looked like the wind and rain had been damaging the rest of the room for some time. All the other paintings and sculptures were messy and broken up on the floor around it - but it just stared straight ahead. Tall, upright. It made Elle feel really lonely and kind of scared at the same time.

“Elle,” Erston said. “I apologize for my urgency, but I must ask a favor of you.”

Elle frowned. “What kind of favor?”

“There is a doctor that works for me. He is working on the creation of a cure. I believe your blood might be the key to his research—”

Elle balked.

“My blood?”

“Nothing severe. A small sample,” Erston said, clearly having no idea what he was requesting. His eyebrows drew together as he looked at Elle.

“Have you ever donated blood before—”

“No way! That’s supposed to stay inside of me!”

Erston winced, but Elle didn’t really care. This was too creepy. Erston seemed nice, and smart, but there was no way she was giving him her blood.

“You can’t just go up to someone and ask for their blood! That’s weird!”

“I did not mean—”

Where was Ludger? Elle reached into her shirt and pulled out the whistle. Erston’s eyes widened.

“Is that—”

It was dinner time; Ludger’d have to get over here soon anyway.

Elle blew into the whistle as hard as she could, and the shrill sound echoed through the mostly empty mansion, louder than any siren.


	9. Head Underwater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xillia week over so I'm BACK ON THE ZAMBOS GRIND.

One of Ludger’s first summer jobs was handing out inner tubes at the waterpark near his house. He’d thought it would be a good way to make money and stay cool in the heat, but really it only made for the worst sunburn of his life. It was almost worth it though, as an excuse to secretly pine over Nova who was incredibly proud to have finished her lifeguard classes. Ludger never made a move, of course, but she was pretty damn passionate about her duty to protect the ice-cream-covered hands of the four-year-olds that were definitely peeing in the pools. Ludger learned a lot from her.

“Hiya Ludger,” Nova announced one day, while Ludger was stepping over to her pool to refresh one of the large inner tubes that had started to burn his hands. “You know what I’m thinking about today?”

It had become a game between them. Nova would have some random fact and make Ludger string together some syllables to try to guess it. Lately though, Ludger hadn’t been answering, enjoying hearing her explanations more than offering guesses. He shrugged, dopily, rolling the inner tube in the bright chlorinated water.

“Life and death!” she announced, voice taking a turn for the comedically dark. At Ludger’s face she pumped her fist in the air, pleased to have thrown him off like usual. “Drowning happens really fast, ya know. I learned in my class– way faster than people think. Suffocation though: now, oof, _that_ takes a _while_. It takes about two minutes to pass out, but up to ten to be completely certain!”

Ludger had raised an eyebrow. “That long?”

“That long!”

Ludger would employ this knowledge later, hands clenched tight around the willing throat of a bite victim that had asked him to step in to do the deed. In this moment though, he had only chuckled and nodded along.

“But _drowning_ ,” Nova continued, voice taking on a conspiratorial edge. “Drowning happens fast. Less than a minute. Less than twenty _seconds_ for children. Once you open your mouth and your lungs fill up that’s kind of it, unless you get the water back out again. Pretty messed up, right?”

Nova’s grin had been so wide, and Ludger had laughed, cheeks a little flushed; a little threatened, a little in love.

“Yeah, pretty messed up.”

The whistle echoed through the basement room, and Ellen Mathis cried out like someone had killed her a second time.

“What on earth–!?” Balan shouted, but Ludger barely heard him. He was on his feet, body moving before his brain had even fully realized what was happening.

“Mom!?”

 _“Elle!”_ Ludger pivoted, scooping his metal pipe from the floor and running out of the basement room. He wasn’t thinking, wasn’t breathing. He left Jude behind with his half-dissected, infected mother. Left Jude behind with the two strangers that might have done that to her and could do that to him even– _without hesitation_.

Elle was in danger. Everything else faded away.

 _I’m sorry Jude,_ some forgotten part of Ludger’s heart whispered.

Ludger wasn’t a good person. He couldn’t be.

It had been a slow descent. First, he lost things he could live without: creature comforts, strangers in their apartment complex, and friends he never talked to anyway. The puddle of blood they formed at his ankles was disturbingly manageable. A sore feeling, but one that he could live with. Sorrow for his fellow man, but not real loss. Not _true grief._

But the puddle only grew. Ludger sank into it, chest deep, as he lost more: close friends from school, the apartment he grew up in, consistent food, a sense of safety. Neck deep, now.

His _cat_.

God, _Rollo_ , losing that sweet, fat cat was shattering in a way that the continued loss of the people around him, people he knew and spoke to, somehow wasn’t. Blood was in his mouth, over his eyes. Blood was everywhere, copper tasting, painfully hot, oppressive. Ludger was fully submerged, reaching for the light shining on the surface as he drifted down into his own mistakes.

Lara. In the hospital bed, pregnant, growling.

Julius. In his apartment, smiling, humming, the bite on his arm corpse-grey.

Then, like closing a shutter, that light just…went away.

Ludger stopped reaching. Accepted the hell his life was, and _still_ he managed to continue to lose. He lost things he didn’t know he had; things he didn’t know humans could live without. Things that weren’t meant to be peeled away and leave a body still standing. Still alive.

Trust. Patience. Kindness.

They were carved out of him, each grueling, miserable day; sometimes on purpose. Ludger hollowed himself out with little lies he told for Elle and his safety, like it would make him lighter again. He managed to sink _faster_.

Self-worth.

Belief.

Hope.

Ludger actively put families in danger without hesitation because they were foolish enough to trust Ludger’s word that _nothing was following them_.

Himself.

Ludger killed, murdered, all under the label of doing what he had to for Elle. Morality was little more than a vestigial organ—something that once had been needed, but now just took up valuable space in his body. Space in his body that should have been used to survive, to protect.

Ludger couldn’t lose Elle.

She was the last thing, the only thing in this world that he had managed to hold onto. Not undamaged, but alive. Ludger couldn’t live without her. He couldn’t do this _alone_ , he wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure when exactly his own life stopped mattering, when placed next to his daughters, but it had. 50/50 chance of survival or not: without her, his fate was sealed.

He threw open the apple door and—

“There you are, Ludger, finally!” Elle said, a wide smile on her face. Uninjured. Alive.

A shadow was behind her. Erston. Ludger grabbed her arm, tugging her roughly behind him and shielding her with his own body, pipe in hand. She yelped.

“Ludger— hey!”

“What’s going on here,” Ludger asked. His voice was hard, and cold. Empty.

A series of thumps echoed behind him, and he turned to see Jude, out of breath at the top of the stairs. His eyes were still red and puffy, but he looked alarmed. Concerned. …What?

“Ludger is she—”

A lump formed in Ludger’s throat. Ludger had left Jude behind, cut the line with his own hands, but Jude had just followed, without hesitation, without judgement. Like that was something normal to do; like he _understood_.

“Am I what?” Elle asked, tugging at Ludger’s arm. His grip loosened, but he didn’t release her. “Hey…Jude, are you okay?”

“I’m f—” _fine_ , Jude seemed to start to say, but his voice caught, and he couldn’t finish the words. This seemed to surprise him, though Ludger couldn’t imagine why.

Of course he wasn’t fine. That was his _mom_. Ludger didn’t know what it was like to have a mother, but he knew that whatever that thing was…no one wished for that. Why was he here trying to help _Elle_? What was he doing?

“Don’t force yourself,” Ludger found himself advising, the concern in his voice catching him off guard. It was a dusty reflex, but genuine. “What are you doing up here?”

His hand hovered over Jude’s shoulder, not touching - it was probably sore, after all, partially thanks to Ludger himself. Amber eyes met his own, briefly. Ludger stared back, lost.

As if on cue, Muzét and Balan walked through the door. Without hesitation, Elle pointed her hammer at both of them.

“Hey! What did you two do to Jude!?” Elle was outraged, standing in front of Jude whose eyes had gone from baffled to wide with shock. In a bizarre surge of protectiveness, Ludger stepped in front of him as well. The pipe was still in his hands.

“Whoa there, let’s not be hasty with that pipe!”

“Erston, we’re in danger,” Muzét drawled, not sounding concerned in the slightest. “Won’t you protect us?”

“You do not need protecting,” Erston said, looking a bit like he wanted a pipe of his own. “Why were they in the basement?”

“Now don’t go looking at me,” Balan said. “ _They_ broke the door down.”

“—Trying to _rescue_ me. They were very dashing.”

“You broke a door down, Ludger?” Elle whispered. Ludger shook his head. Elle’s eyes widened. _“Jude?_ I _knew_ you were cool!”

Erston sucked in a long deep breath through his nose.

Muzét spoke up, “Oh no, Balan… you made him mad.”

Balan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Will everyone _please_ just be rational for thirty seconds.”

“I’ll gladly be rational as soon as you explain what’s happening,” Jude said. “All of you all have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Yeah!” Elle shouted. She pointed her hammer at Erston. “He wanted to take my blood.”

“ _What_?” Ludger asked, turning to Erston now. Balan made a strangled sound.

Erston shut his eyes. “It wasn’t…”

“You _told_ her?” Balan burst out. “You told a _child_ what we’re—”

“Not entirely, Balan.”

“I’m not a kid!”

“We were going to discuss with them as a _group_. We went through this.”

“We also were not going to show them the basement _until they understood the situation_.”

“Oh my, it seems like nothing is going according to plan today, huh boys?”

Balan looked ready to pop. “Muzét, I usually quite enjoy your temperament but so help me—"

“Just tell us what’s going on in the basement!” Jude yelled, voice dark.

Ludger’s ears were ringing. “Elle’s _blood_?”

Erston took a deep breath and started speaking at the exact same time as Balan, who was talking over Muzét, who was trying to calm Jude. Ludger couldn’t make heads or tails of any of the four conversations happening all at the same time. He ran a hand through his hair, overwhelmed. His feelings were everywhere. fury, relief, grief, confusion–

Elle blew her whistle. Everyone stopped. Blinked. Looked down.

“One at a time guys, jeez!”

It was silent. Suddenly no one wanted to speak.

“Please. Let us discuss this over dinner—” Erston began, but Jude shook his head.

“Why is my mom in your basement?”

Erston’s eyes widened, just barely. “Your…mother?”

“Erston, meet Jude Mathis,” Balan said.

“Derrick has a son?”

“I was surprised too,” Muzét declared, fanning herself.

“You know my father?”

Erston nodded. “I do – very well, or so I thought.”

“Oh, we _all_ know Derrick,” Muzét said.

“Muzét I am begging you to stop antagonizing everyone. It’s nothing sinister Jude,” Balan clarified. “Derrick Mathis is the chief medical researcher in this facility.”

“My…dad works here?” Jude looked like he was about to fall over. “That’s not possible—he would never let that happen.”

“Ellen volunteered _herself_ ,” Balan pressed on, voice grim. “She had already been bitten, and we knew she didn’t have a lot of time left. She donated her body to help everyone else. Ellen is Derrick’s own personal…project. For obvious reasons. None of us touch her.”

“Ellen?” Elle asked, and Ludger shook his head. He realized he was still holding her arm, and felt a wave of guilt, quickly releasing it. Distance. Space. Growth.

“Where is he?” Jude whispered. “I want to talk to him, _right now.”_

“So would all of us, unfortunately,” Balan said. “I’m sorry Jude. We’ve been scanning for information, but he went to investigate at another theoretically safe facility – and…we haven’t heard from him since. That doesn’t mean anything of course. Letters are hard to send with the world like this, so it’s not a surprise. But…”

“You don’t know,” Jude repeated, numb. His hands were in his hair. His eyes were empty, like he was trying to process this information all at once, but it wasn’t happening. He swallowed, and Ludger could swear he saw him box up the feeling, compartmentalize and separate from it to deal with late– a survival mechanism of the most heart-breaking and _familiar_ variety.

“Jude’s daddy is missing?” Elle asked, and Ludger put a hand on her head, shaking his. She closed her mouth. Muzét opened her mouth to say something as well, and Erston looked at her, as if to do the same thing. Muzét spoke up anyway.

“He has tons of research notes, you know. Maybe you could have a look at those and feel closer.”

Jude flinched like he’d been hit, a flash of pain crossing his face, before he shut his eyes, tight. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move. Balan looked at Ludger, concerned.

Ludger didn’t know what to say.

Balan spoke up instead, “Muzét…does make a point. I _can_ show you his research notes, Jude. If you want to see…”

When Jude opened his eyes, they were closed off, unreadable. He spoke as a professional, with the tone of voice one would employ at a particularly important business meeting. If Ludger hadn’t been keeping an eye on his hands, he would have never noticed anything was off—but he was, and he did.

Jude’s hands were trembling.

“No thank you,” he said. “Not right now. I have…something else I’m doing this week. Dad’s notes can wait until that is done. Now what is this about Elle’s blood?”

Even as he spoke, he seemed to be trying to convince himself. Ludger realized, with horror, that he was referring to him. His potential transformation. That was the only other thing that Jude could be up to this week. He was putting the search for his missing father on hold to determine if he had to spend the rest of his life taking care of Ludger’s child? Ludger wanted to argue. Willed himself to argue, to be the better person and tell Jude to go after his father, but he couldn’t open his mouth to find the words.

Elle needed to be looked after. If Ludger died…he needed Jude to do that. And after he had just left him in the basement–

Elle broke Ludger out his loathing, slapping his leg. “It’s for the cure they’re working on!”

“The…cure…?”

 _Cure_ was one of those words people tended to throw around a lot in the early days. Parents with shopping carts whispering, _oh it’ll come now, any day._ But it hadn’t.

People had stopped believing. Ludger hadn’t heard the word in years. It felt taboo, sacrilegious to bring up such a hopeful concept in a place as hopeless as this one, and to connect it to his daughter?

No. Everything in Ludger recoiled at the concept. It was too good, and too _risky_ to count for anything.

“You’re not touching her,” Ludger announced, simply. “Cure or not.”

Erston exhaled through his nose. “I must ask you to reconsider.”

“I won’t,” Ludger replied. “I’d like to leave now.”

He turned on his heel, and made eye contact with Wingul, who was, of course, leaning against the hallway that would take him to the entrance. This place was big though, if Ludger tossed Elle over his shoulder and ran it was possible they could still–

“Ludger,” it was Jude who spoke up, hand on Ludger’s arm. “I think we should hear them out. That’s enough.”

 _They have your decomposing mom tied to a mattress– they’re not touching Elle,_ Ludger wanted to shout, but the look in Jude’s eyes made him freeze.

Jude looked…angry. Sincerely angry, but not like in the basement. This was a calculated anger, a cold anger that carried the weight of thousands of small and large _disappointments_.

Jude Mathis, Ludger was discovering, was no fool. He knew what Ludger had done, and he _knew_ what he was planning on doing. Elle had caught on as well, it seemed. She was standing at Jude’s side, with a firm grip on Jude’s borrowed black pants that was not to be argued with, either. The sight cut straight through all the shadow and blood and managed to reach Ludger’s heart.

“I want to hear what’s up too,” Elle said. “Erston’s an okay guy, Ludger!”

Ludger’s shoulders fell. Of course. Anyone would fight for the potential for a cure. Anyone would leap at that word, no matter how hopeless. To run away at the first sign of that just to protect his family was inarguably self-serving.

Still, Ludger wanted to run. Ludger wanted to _badly_ , but…

He managed to meet Jude’s gaze, and the gaze of his daughter. He was deep underwater but maybe at this point, it didn’t matter whether he was swimming _down_ or _up_ , as long as he was _swimming_.

Ludger wouldn’t risk Elle’s life, but he could at least hear their options.

“Fine,” he said, exhausted. “Dinner it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!!


	10. Goblins and Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW CHAPTER! HOORAY. We're plugging along! Thank you for all the lovely feedback so far it keeps me FUELED!

“What do you want immuno-goblins for? We already have zombies!” Elle pointed her apple slice at Balan with all the incredulity her tiny body could hold.

“Ah,” replied the scientist, defeated. Ludger could see the full forty-five minutes of wasted presentation time reflected in his eyes. “I can’t say I’ve heard that particular bit of feedback before.”

“Well you should have! Goblins are dangerous, and you can’t fight a bad thing with another bad thing.”

“It’s actually immuno _globulin_ Elle,” Jude clarified in his gentle way.

“Yeah,” Ludger agreed like he knew what that meant. He was chewing on a piece of basil flatbread Muzét had stacked on his plate. He hadn’t intended to eat anything until he was confident he had a handle on the situation, but _basil flatbread_. It was good, refreshing, carrying more flavor than anything he’d had in years. They were in over their heads no matter what he was eating, Ludger figured. He’d fight better with a full stomach anyway.

That said, all this talk of turning and thoughts of Elle’s strange condition made it hard to swallow. How did they get wrapped up in this? They just wanted to be safe for one _evening_ , and they’d spent the whole day in this orchard. They had to _move_.

“Whatever,” Elle grunted. “Look, Ludger’s all confused!”

“Hey!” Ludger choked. She wasn’t _wrong_. Balan had proved to be more patient than expected. He’d done his best with them, busting out diagrams and definitions in spades—but it didn’t change the fact that Elle was eight, and Ludger was a culinary school dropout. They weren’t exactly the ideal audience, here.

Ludger had only managed to barely catch the basic premise: Balan and the others had performed some successful experiments with the blood of a research volunteer. Her blood had provided the potential of a cure, or at least a vaccine. Suspiciously, however, she had died suddenly during an attack on the lab. They needed more special blood, and they thought Elle might fit the bill because of…scientific reasons.

It was sketchy at best, disturbingly complicated at worst, and it fell on Ludger to make the call to give them permission to extract blood from Elle or not. He grasped for further information, but the explanations Balan offered made less sense then the set-up.

Ludger wasn’t a scientist. Giving a blood sample was safe, he was familiar with _that_ process. Prior to the apocalypse he’d donated everything he could. With an unplanned daughter to prepare for and a wallet to fill, his standards had never been lower— what was a little sperm, plasma, or bone marrow? Lara had drawn the line at the black-market kidney donations, she was always more forward-thinking than Ludger. But Lara was dead now. This was Ludger’s call, and he couldn’t even understand the situation. What would Elle’s blood would be used for? How could it possibly make a _cure_?

Balan assured Ludger the study would stop at a blood sample for now, so did understanding the science of it even really matter? Of course it did. This was Elle’s blood. This was Elle’s _future_. Ludger had to understand, had to, but…

Elle was right, he _was_ confused.

“I…do need a second,” Ludger admitted, hand on his neck, trying to untangle all the information he had received. Responsibility wrapped around his throat, tight as a noose. The silence stretched over the dining room for a solid minute, and Ludger’s thoughts only twisted and knotted. He wasn’t any closer to a decision.

Erston sighed from where he was seated at the head of the table. For a moment, Ludger felt like he was watching this scene from far away. He watched this group of intelligent and possibly dangerous people hang on the words of a dying chef and his child. Absurd. He almost laughed.

“May I try explaining to you, Elle?” Jude’s pleasant voice cut through in the silent room. He hadn’t said much until now— only offering the occasional question with urgent, focused eyes.

The presentation had really transformed him. His hands and voice had steadied, and he looked _at home_ in this room full of dubious figures. Jude might as well have been watching the orchard wake up again, commenting on the smell of apples in the air. Ludger knew it was an act; his dad was missing, his mom was in the basement, and he was just as trapped as they were. But there was honesty in it, too. Jude wasn't feeling threatened.

“I think I’ve mostly gotten my head around it, but it would help _me_ to run through things again,” Jude said. “That is, if you don’t mind, Elle.”

The pout eased off Elle’s face as she glanced at Jude out of the corner of her eye. “I guess if it would help _you_. I’ve pretty much got it too, but you can tell Ludger. Just don’t use any big words— they confuse him.”

“I’ll do my best to help him understand, Elle.” There was a small, fond smile on Jude’s face, the first one Ludger had seen all dinner.

“Oh my, looks like you’re the dumb bunny of the group, Ludger,” Muzét weighed in, practically latching on to his shoulder. She was playing with the food on his plate, making some weird design. Ludger didn’t know what to make of it so he just shrugged and let it happen.

“Muzét, please refrain from pestering our guest,” Erston said, sounding very tired. Ludger waved a hand. There were bigger things to deal with. He had to wrap his head around this. For Elle.

“So Immuno _globulins_ aren’t goblins, but a part of your blood. It’s just a general term for what the scientists here are actually looking for: antibodies,” Jude explained.

Elle stared at him vacantly. Ludger leaned in, whispered in her ear, “The things that fight the virus.”

“I know that,” Elle grunted, but without any actual understanding behind her eyes. Jude straightened up, seeming to switch gears.

“So, let’s say I’m an infected, Elle.”

“ _You_?” Elle’s eyes went wide, attention suddenly back. Ludger blinked; Jude already knew her well.

“I’m an infected, and I bite…” Jude trailed off, glancing across the table, eyes meeting Ludger’s for second.

“Scientist-guy!” Elle suggested.

“I bite Balan,” Jude agreed, rolling with it. Balan shut his eyes, dryly accepting his villain and victim status. “The virus enters his bloodstream through my bite, and it spreads through him, blending in with his red blood cells, until it’s fully taken over. What happens next?”

“Scientist-guy turns into a zombie,” Elle whispered, sagely. She was completely engaged. Even Muzét seemed fairly interested. Evidently, Jude’s more personal approach was working for both of them. Ludger ate an apple slice off of Muzét’s arrangement. He didn’t really taste it. His arm ached.

“That’s exactly right. Now, let’s look at the moment before Balan turns completely. His body hasn’t given up, and it’s fighting the way it would fight off any other virus. It has natural ways to combat infection—”

“Immunogoblins—globbins— _antibodies!_ ” Elle burst out.

Jude beamed like a proud professor. “ _Exactly_ Elle. Antibodies are the way your body fights off the virus. But the problem with _this virus_ is that it attacks the antibodies, too.”

“It can do that!?” Elle asked, glaring hard at Balan, as if he was personally responsible for the virus’s adaptiveness. Balan wiggled his fingers at her.

“Well, more specifically it would attack Balan’s B and T cells. How do I explain this…?” Jude pressed a finger against his temple, hesitating for a moment. When he spoke, it was slowly, carefully. “T cells are fighter cells; they attack and neutralize a virus— we’re less focused on them. B cells are the important ones. They make the antibodies, and without antibodies, scientists can’t produce a cure.”

“But Erston said they’re making a cure here!”

Jude nodded, glancing at Balan, “That’s where Da—the research here comes in, Elle. They theorized and proved that some people possess antibodies to the virus. It could be that they’ve come into contact with the virus before and recovered from it without realizing. Or something else entirely— it’s still unclear.”

Memories of Lara flooded Ludger's senses. The smell of her perfume, jasmine and violets, seemed thick in the air. Lara, nine months pregnant, spit trailing down her chin, blood staining her hospital gown from the bite on her throat. Ludger couldn't look at her. He looked at the zombie on the floor, wearing an identical hospital gown, now little more than a bullet-riddled stain on the otherwise immaculate vinyl. When the doctor ran in to check on them, Julius didn't hesitate. He shut the door behind him and stood guard. Ludger raised his gun, pointed it at the trembling man's head, and removed the safety.

_Do a C-section. Now. Save Elle, and then I’ll shoot her, and you never have to see us again._

“You think I’m one of those people?” Elle asked. Ludger took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his hands. His stomach churned. His palms were sweating. She could be. Elle could be. But then _what_?

“We don’t know, Elle, which is why they’d like to take a sample.”

“Will it hurt?”

“It’ll hurt less than a shot, but it will last longer. You’ll need to hold very still,” Balan spoke up.

Elle shuffled in her seat. “Can doctor Jude do it?”

Ludger and Jude both faced Elle at the same time. Ludger’s heart was in his throat. She shrugged.

“I’m fine with helping people, but I don’t know _you_ ,” Elle gestured toward Balan. “And if you’re gonna take my blood I want it to be someone _I_ know, who knows things.”

“She’s a smart one,” Balan said, a victorious smile spreading across his face.

“Hold on, Elle,” Ludger warned.

“Leave this to me!” Elle replied, chin raised in a confident challenge. “So can Doctor Jude do it?”

She had never looked more like _Julius_. Ludger felt his argument shrivel in his throat. Elle wanted this. Could he get in the way of that? In the way of something that might heal the world?

Balan was beaming. “That’s fine with me. We’d like to test all of you so if your fathers give their seals of approval as well—”

Elle stood up, face contorted, and Ludger rushed to stand as well.

“Hey, Li!” Elle shouted, turning to Wingul who was leaning against the doorframe. “Explain to him.”

“…Wingul?” Jude asked, incredulous.

“Yeah, that guy, he has like six names,” Elle clarified, firing a _what are you doing_ look at Ludger, who awkwardly sat back down.

"Why me?" the taciturn man asked, before shaking his head, clearly deciding it was better to just move things along. "Jude's not her dad."

At the continued stares of everyone, he just leaned further into the wall. That was it. 

Elle sat back down.

“Scary…” Balan mumbled.

“So, when do we start?” Elle asked, turning to Jude, who immediately started to explain the process and inquire about necessary equipment. It wasn’t long before he, Balan, and Erston were all talking over each other.

“Wait,” Ludger grit out. He was staring hard at the table.

“Ludger, it’s only a blood test,” Balan soothed. “I assure you; no harm will come to her. Everyone in this room aside from you three has gone through the same.”

“What about after?” Ludger asked. His fists were clenched tightly.

“Well, it will take a week or so to pull the results together, but after that we’ll come to a conclusion. You’re welcome to stay here until we find them out.”

“I trust the room was to your liking?” Erston inquired.

“I want a proper shower!” Elle said, slamming her hand on the table launching into a tirade on their cold showers earlier.

Ludger tuned out. Panic wrapped around his heart. A week or two. He didn’t have that kind of time. He needed to make a plan, right _now_ , for Elle. He couldn’t just whittle away his time here, but what other options did he have? This place had safety, it had food, everything Ludger could want for her, so maybe it was ideal after all? Maybe it was the best they could ever have, but Jude’s mom was in the basement. Something was wrong. Something _had_ to be. Shit, what was he supposed to do—

A hand shoved his shoulder, and he turned, abruptly staring into Jude’s warm eyes. Jude was ignoring the shower debate as well, even though it seemed to be innocently escalating.

“Ludger, listen. I know how much she means to you, and I’m not going to let anything happen to her. Let’s take this on one issue at a time. Blood tests first?”

One issue at a time. His heart rate slowed. Of course. Panicking was useless.

Ludger was used to rolling with the punches. Life had a tendency to throw as many as it could his way, and he usually took them in stride. It wasn’t like he had a choice. Hell might have been around him, but he’d made a home in it. He built it bloodstained brick by bloodstained brick, and he’d survived. So had Jude.

“Right,” Ludger said, and the confidence in his voice seemed to put some of Jude’s hesitance to rest. He smiled, nodded, and turned back to the conversation.

Still, Ludger couldn’t help but wonder, looking at Jude’s back, what would be different if Julius and Lara were in this with him again? What would they say if they could see him now?

He didn’t know what the hell he was doing.


	11. Rational Heart, Rational Mind

As a toddler, Elle would sing all the time. She would burst into these nonsensical little songs on nights when the air was cold enough to sting, and the earth was too hard for a nap. Julius almost always joined in with his own tunes— his lazy baritone voice contrasting with Elle’s off-key soprano. Ludger didn’t join them, always unable to muster up lyrics to compete with legends such as: _firewood, firewood, gotta-gotta-get some firewood,_ and _dried meat, dried meat._ He would just listen, the impromptu concerts filling him with enough gooey, familial love to make the ice around his heart melt like butter.

The world had ended, but those were the best nights with whatever remained.

The air left Ludger’s lungs in a long, tremulous exhale as he listened to Elle sing in the now-warm shower of the orchard mansion. The slightly muffled melody echoing from the bathroom felt nothing short of sacred. He thought he buried that tuneless, perfect sound with his brother— to hear it now, after a morning of anxiety and an evening of blood tests…

 _Julius,_ Ludger thought, wanting to update him even though he was long gone. _Julius, she can still sing_ — _somehow, she can still sing._

“She’s…really strong,” Jude released. He was across the room, meticulously checking each item in his bag for any sort of tampering. His back, thankfully, was to Ludger who mumbled some affirmation— covertly blinking the tears out of his eyes. A piece of cotton was taped to the crook of Jude’s arm, matching the ones on Ludger and Elle.

“I’d take the credit, but honestly, she was born that way.” Ludger admitted, after a moment. “Her first word was ‘hey’, you know.”

“Born issuing corrections, huh?”

“Good ones, too.”

Elle started a new verse, something about roosters and beans this time, and Ludger’s breath caught on a snort. Ah, there was the humor beside the ache. Jude laughed as well, a little hollow sounding. Ludger’s smile fell away. Away from the intense pressure of the dining room and hospital— Jude was starting to show some of his exhaustion. There was a stiffness to his movements that hadn’t been present this morning. The weight of the dead, or the weight of the living?

Ludger couldn’t afford to ask. He couldn’t risk Jude making the decision to leave. Thankfully, that window was steadily closing. The longer Jude stayed here, the longer Jude’s dad would be left alone— wherever he was— and the less reason there would be to search for him. After all, what good was there in finding a dead researcher? Jude’s indecision worked in Ludger’s favor. For Elle’s future, it was better that Jude stayed where he was, as he was.

Still, the air _itched_. Ludger reached for the bag sitting on the end table: a whole support kit of crackers and apple juice.

 _I feel like a grade-schooler,_ Ludger had commented when Jude set it there earlier.

 _There’s nothing childish about blood loss,_ Jude had scolded in reply. _You lost a ton of blood yesterday, and I took more from you now. Eat and drink everything in here when you can. And don’t push yourself._

Ludger had promised, and kept it. Sort of. He refused to race Elle down the hallway to their new room immediately after the blood work, and drank the apple juice. Good enough.

He poured one of the crackers onto his hand. It was small and hexagonal: an oyster cracker. Damn, it had been a while since he’d seen one of these. He glanced between Jude and the cracker, a small half-thought working its way through his head. His companion had stopped fixing his bag and was now just vacantly staring into it. That wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all. Whatever remained of Ludger’s once bleeding heart reached out—maybe he couldn’t afford to help him figure out his thoughts, but he could _distract him_ , at least.

“Jude,” he announced, preparing himself. He held the oyster cracker against his thumb, pointer finger positioned underneath it.

When Jude glanced up, Ludger didn’t hesitate. He launched it upward with a flick of his finger. The cracker arced spectacularly in the air, and Ludger leaned forward, expertly catching it in his mouth. Ha! He looked toward Jude, chewing, a smug smile on his face.

Jude stared, mouth open, eyebrows drawn together. “What was that?”

Ludger abruptly realized he had nothing planned after that display. His face heated, and he turned away, shrugging his shoulders as if to say _: well, that’s all I got._

“Are you…trying cheer me up?” Jude asked. He sounded so _mystified_. Well, life had been fun but Ludger could turn now. He cleared his throat, nodded once, and Jude’s face softened into something familiar.

“That was…quite a tactic. It caught me off guard, sorry. You’re uh, very skilled.”

“Don’t,” Ludger huffed, falling back to the bed, his head hitting the pillow so hard and so _right_. “Let’s call a spade a spade and admit that one fell flat.”

Jude chuckled, an honest sound that made Ludger embarrassing himself completely worth it. “It wasn’t that bad. I was getting in my head…Thanks for pulling me out, Ludger.”

Ludger only shrugged, shutting his eyes. _Thanks_ wasn’t what he deserved here.

“You okay? We’ve had quite a day.”

That didn’t begin to cover it. “You worry too much about other people, Jude.”

“I get that a lot.”

It sounded almost rehearsed. Jude stood, making his way to the bed. He sat next to Ludger and smiled. Yeah, that definitely seemed fake too— all tight at the edges.

Ludger leaned on his good arm to look at him properly. Jude was all fluffy hair and lean muscle. He was slouching slightly, gaze firmly locked to the corner of the bed, rubbing the shoulder Ludger almost dislocated earlier. The guilt that filled Ludger’s chest in response to that was oddly tepid, considering. Must be going numb.

“Sore?” he asked, anyway.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Ludger expected to feel better, but he didn’t. The guilt, though light, persisted. Lukewarm, but insistent. Enduring. “Still, I’m sorry,” he admitted. “I’m so sorry for...today. And for all of this.”

He gestured vaguely. The quiet guilt didn’t leave. It weaved its way through his muscles to the stretching, tangled lines of his veins. It didn’t feel hot. Didn’t feel living. Didn’t feel like it was clawing its way out of Ludger— this guilt felt normal. Natural, even. It was simply _there_. Just _there_.

“Now who’s worrying too much about other people? You don’t have anything to feel sorry about— well, nothing I want you to feel sorry for anyway,” Jude spoke quickly, backtracking a bit. “Let’s just say neither of us were at our best today.”

“Mm.”

If Ludger had apologized, and Jude had agreed to this, then everything was in order. Lined up perfectly for Elle, so why…Why wouldn’t this feeling just go away? Why did all of this feel so…?

Jude spoke up again, “I know I didn’t plan for the basement. I should be the one apologizing after that display. It was a childish reaction. Thanks for holding me back.”

“Childish?” Ludger repeated, disbelieving. “Anyone would have lost it. It was awful, Jude.”

“No,” Jude replied, sounding far away. He was leaning back against the headboard. “I was caught in my own feelings, seeing mom like that. I forgot to look at the situation for what it was. I didn’t see Dad’s work there. I didn’t see the research, or the study. I just saw the corpse.”

“That _was_ a corpse, and one you knew.”

Jude shook his head, drummed his fingers against his knee. When he spoke up, finally, his voice had an odd weight to it.

“It’s a lot of work to be able to dissect a corpse, you know. In my anatomy class, we had to read three different dissector volumes. They seemed like a lot, at first. I grew up surrounded by anatomy textbooks, and even then all the words and diagrams… They were overwhelming.”

“Hold on, you grew up surrounded by…anatomy textbooks?”

“Oh,” Jude blinked. “I guess I never told you. Both my parents were doctors, not just Dad. We had a pretty sizable study and as a kid I would read the textbooks there for fun.”

For _fun_? Somehow, picturing a young Jude surrounded by heavy textbooks— eyebrows drawn together, trying to comprehend— was remarkably easy. Ludger found himself smiling.

“You must’ve been a hit at parties.”

Jude flushed at that, sputtering a bit. “Let’s just say I wasn’t getting many invitations, even before the apocalypse.”

“Poor Jude,” Ludger chuckled, shaking his head.

Jude’s blush deepened, as he rubbed the back of his neck. Cute. “How— how did we get here?”

Ludger shrugged. It was nice, the weird somber tone had left Jude’s voice. He didn’t sound like he was reading a paper anymore, or repeating someone else’s words. These were Jude’s actual feelings.

“Let me get back on track. Here’s the thing— are you listening Ludger?” Jude asked, eyes shining, focused. Ludger only nodded, along for the ride.

“When you touch your first cadaver it changes things…Or at least it did for me. It’s startling and weirdly exposing, for everyone. Overwhelming. You really understand that the human body is so infinitely, infinitely complex that any _book_ pales to the real thing. The only way you can possibly hope to understand even the smallest bit of just how incredible the architecture of a person is to— well, to take them apart. It’s how you learn.” 

“Even if you know that person?”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Jude’s face. “Theoretically, yes.”

Ludger didn’t let up. “But in practice, Jude.”

The passion had drained from Jude’s face. Ludger immediately regretted pushing him this far. He seemed to be doing better but…that was denial, wasn’t it? Dressing up what he’d seen in pretty words. Still, it wasn’t Ludger’s place to pull that out of Jude. He opened his mouth to apologize, when Jude spoke up again, voice much quieter.

“You got me. I want to think so, but I’m not sure. Mom and Dad always told me there is no greater thing someone can do after death than to give themselves to science. To acknowledge their own physical utility, even in an unglamorous way. Logically, it’s necessary, but emotionally… I didn’t…I don’t…” Jude looked away, trailing off.

“She was your mom Jude,” Ludger whispered. “You don’t have to rationalize it.”

“But I can— Dad _did_ ,” Jude shut his eyes, composure fading for a brief moment. Ludger was surprised by the anger in his voice, the desperation. It cleared away in seconds, as Jude shook his head, straightened his shoulders, eyes meeting Ludger’s. Resolved.

“Mom was a good doctor.”

Ludger swallowed. Studies were one thing. Seeing your mom, tied up on a dirty mattress, drooling and moving— that was something else. Jude wasn’t supposed to see that, and now he was just sitting here talking about it like it was wrong of him to see it as something horrific. Could he really carry it like that? Was that coping, or just going to cause trouble down the road?

Ludger rubbed his neck, not knowing what to say. Not knowing how to express how _wrong_ this whole thing felt. He swallowed, looking at Jude’s folded hands, resting patiently in his lap. Steady, strong. Ludger decided to trust that. Trust Jude to figure out whatever he needed.

“I guess I never thought of it like that. You’re a pretty good doctor yourself, Jude. ”

Jude winced, a sharp, wounded look crossing his face before he turned away, hiding his expression. Ludger blinked, instantly regretting. He meant to lay the matter to rest but—

“Jude?”

“Sorry,” Jude replied, through his teeth. “It’s just…that caught me off-guard. I’m not a doctor.”

The confession was oddly calm, considering what it was. Ludger’s hand flew to his bandaged arm, baffled.

“No, no. I have ample _medical training,_ just not— I’m not a _doctor_. I switched tracks, right at the start of everything. It was a whole— thing. I wanted to study something else. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. It was faster to say I was a doctor when you were in danger and…”

“You didn’t have to tell me. It’s okay. You have the training, right?”

“Yes. I was just missing the last couple years of residency.”

Jude’s eyes were still shut, Ludger couldn’t fathom the look on his face: somewhere between regret and shame. He couldn’t understand it. Jude had at least gone through enough med school to understand antibodies and dissect a person. He wasn’t faking the knowledge, he clearly had it. He was enough of a doctor for now— more than enough for this sorry world.

“Jude it’s—”

A knock on the door. Jude stood quickly.

“Come in.”

Wingul, again. He was looking down for some reason, as if expecting to see Elle.

“She’s showering,” Ludger explained, gesturing with his head to the shower door. Wingul looked up, smoothly turning his face to the side, like he wasn’t looking for her at all. He had a map in his hands.

“Message for Jude.”

“What is it?” Jude asked.

“Private,” Wingul explained. Ludger felt his shoulders tense.

“Whatever it is, you can say it in front of Ludger.”

“Suit yourself,” Wingul replied. “It’s about your father. Apparently some of the researchers traveling with him just got back. The outpost he was heading from fell, and he was injured in the rush to escape. He’s fine, but he needs someone to come find him. Erston suggested you, Jude. He’s close— two days walk, if you leave early. ”

Jude stepped forward. “Can one of your men—”

“No. The outpost fell due to poor defenses. There’s a large amount of undead roaming now, and we can’t spare a single person.”

“Why…Why would you tell me at all then?”

“He’s your father. Dangerous or not, we’re not about to deny you the option to go after him,” Wingul set the map on the end table near the door. “That is, if you want to. Erston says you’re welcome to stay as long as you need, but to go if you must. Ludger, we request you and Elle stay here until the results.”

Jude was staring straight ahead, clearly at his limit. _Alone?_ They were suggesting he go out alone?

“Goodnight, Wingul,” Ludger snapped, a little harsher than intended.

“One more thing,” Wingul asserted, reaching into his pocket. He set two packets down next to the map. “These are from Jiao. His condolences. Doctor Mathis is a stern man, but one worthy of respect. Goodnight.”

The door shut. Jude silently approached the map and packets, Ludger following close behind. He recognized the shape. Bullets. A good amount, clearly intended for Jude’s gold gun. Jude picked them up, weighing them in his hand, before laughing, a breathless, shattered thing.

“I don’t even know how to use that gun,” Jude whispered, and finally broke. The scientist curled forward, hands over his face. He crumbled inwardly; a silent collapse, he didn’t sob, or choke. He simply held his face in his hands for a long, painfully still, moment.

The words came easily. More easily than Ludger expected, anyway. Maybe it had been building for a while. Maybe it started right there, when Ludger recognized exactly how Jude felt because he had lived it for two lonely years. Helplessness. True helplessness. Somewhere, deep inside, Ludger whispered: _Fuck it. Fuck it all._

He was never going to repay his debt to Jude, but he might as well start now.

“I do. Let me get Elle ready and we can leave tonight.”

As if on cue, the shower turned off.

“What? They told you to—”

“I don’t care about them. Besides, it’s two days journey. Two days back. Theoretically I’ve got six— well, soon to be five left. We can make it back in time for whatever happens. You’d regret it if you didn’t go, right?”

Jude stared, openly, like he couldn’t believe what Ludger was saying. Part of Ludger stared with him. What the hell was he doing? They had shelter and protection. Jude’s dad was probably a lost cause— but he couldn’t stop thinking about Julius. Of regrets.

Even if he was dead, fuck it, Jude deserved to bury him, himself.

“What about Elle?” Jude asked.

“What about her?” Ludger replied. Elle was fine. Elle was strong. Elle could still _sing_ , even now. If she was going to live with Jude eventually then goddammit, Jude deserved to have this closure. If there was one thing Ludger knew living in the apocalypse it was that things didn’t get better. You had to minimize regrets where you could. It was the only thing you could do.

“I…don’t know what to say. Thank you, Ludger.”

The door to the bathroom opened, and Elle walked out, still humming.

Ludger grinned at Jude, then at her.

“Get your bag, Elle, we’re going on a trip.”

As expected, Elle was unfazed. “About time!”

“Both of you…” Jude whispered, then closed his hand firmly around the map, eyes wet, but bright. Determined. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AW MAN HERE WE GO FOLKS!!!!!!!! So excited to move onto the next parts of this fic : D


End file.
